Blood
by hoppnhorn
Summary: A first person look at the world of Death Sentence and the three Darley men, as told by a girl intimately connected to all of them. Rated M for Drugs, Violence, Sex, Rape, Language.
1. Foreword

**Since I want to keep a very narrative feel to this story, I figured I would start this with a large author's note to get all of my comments out of the way before you started reading. =) This story is something I've been working on for a while, but haven't really had the guts to publish until recently. I was randomly inspired to write the Darley's in a way that didn't necessarily hold them in such high regard. IT'S NOT A BASHFEST. Do not worry. It's just a different perspective than what's normally seen in this genre. I was also inspired to write a female who wasn't strong. Us Death Sentence fic authors create some of the biggest badass women to match these delicious badass men. But in the setting of Death Sentence, most women are exactly the opposite. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please leave me comments to let me know what you thought. It would mean so much. =D**

**Special thanks to Dreamer2987 for reading my drafts as I went and keeping me motivated to continue. This is the most personal a story has ever felt and Harley has quickly grown very dear to my heart, so your support was the push I needed. Love ya girl. **


	2. Hello my name is

Lots of people thought they knew the Darleys. Locals would whisper rumors and tales, making them out to be invincible gods of the underworld. Cops would list crimes and flinch, called them animals.

The Darleys weren't gods. Or animals. They were men, living in a system governed by strength. They were three men, breaking rules and drifting in the shadows. Dominating by intimidation and force.

But I knew the Darleys differently.

First, let me introduce myself. My name is Harley. And this is my story.

* * *

><p><strong>June 2004<strong>

I woke up to brightness, and instantly my eyelids clamped closed. Where I was, I had no idea, but everything hurt. My skin felt like it weighed a million pounds, holding me down to…

My throat lurched involuntarily and I gagged. Fuck, I needed to sit up. Nothing responded to an attempt at movement and I let out a strangled whine. With another heave, my arms slowly obeyed, dragging my fingers across tile. I was on a floor, lying on my back. The third heave brought up the contents of my stomach and I was choking, gagging on my own vomit. Panicking for air, I rolled and thrashed, managing to lift an arm. It rested on a cold, hard surface and out of reflex I pulled, bringing my torso from the floor. Coughing and heaving I opened my eyes, staring down into a pool of water. My reflection stared back up at me. Black, long hair, steel grey eyes, and pale skin. Thankfully, I didn't see the image for long, the water was disrupted as I emptied my stomach, coughing and groaning as my body ached. As I gasped for air between heaves, my legs buzzed and came to life, curling underneath me so I could sit up. Nothing felt right. I was sideways and spinning though my hands firmly held me in place over the toilet. The nausea only worsened as I moved and I was forced to close my eyes. It was an endless carnival ride in my brain, whirling me around like a rag doll.

When the shockwaves of my vomiting slowed, my chin rested on the lip of the seat. Breathing cooled the sweat that had started on my forehead. Only then did I try to think.

Where the fuck was I? The most obvious question came first. And it was the hardest one to answer, so I peaked open an eye. As slowly as possible, I turned my head, resting a cheek on the cold porcelain. The bathroom was not mine. Ok, so I wasn't home. Taking in the small room, I noticed the general filth. The only clean thing wasn't dirty was a small, fogged window that allowed a blinding stream of light inside, punishing my tired eyes. Nothing looked familiar; in fact, I couldn't even begin to guess where I was.

A groan sounded from my right and I reacted out of surprise, ripping my head around. Too fast. Another wave of nausea forced my face back into the toilet, gagging on nothing as I groaned with misery. The deep sounds of a second person grew louder and I scooted my body away, peering up when the wracking heaves stilled. All I could see was a bare, hairy leg, hanging over the side of the tub. Bravely raising my head, I pushed myself to get a better look, pausing to force down the gags that rose to my throat. Once I could see, I wrinkled my nose. A naked man, a stranger actually, was sprawled in the bathtub, rousing from his slumber. Time to go. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, praying for the strength to stand. As I clamored to my feet, I groped for a wall and stumbled towards the exit. It was only then that I noticed my lack of shoes…or underpants…or shirt. I stopped in the doorway and squinted back into the room, looking for any of the three. My shirt was easily spotted, flung over the side of the sink. My underpants, however, were nowhere to be seen, and judging by the naked man in the tub, I didn't want to know where they were….or how they got there. I just wanted out.

I tugged the black tank over my head and fidgeted the waist of my skirt. Good enough. Just as the guy in the tub sat up, I blindly lurched from the room, starting down a hall. I moved quickly, making as much progress as possible between tiny peaks through my eyelids. Apparently I was in an old apartment. Shitty didn't do it justice. The place was practically falling down, so I didn't pause to take in the décor during my exit. There might have been other people in the place, I didn't really care.

The hallway was covered in graffiti, and it smelled like cat piss and puke. Suiting in its own form. My fingers were dusty and grimy as they smeared over the walls, but it guided me towards a staircase. The heaves took me again as I attempted to descend the steps. My fingers strangled the railing as I gasped for air and my knees gave way. I hung from the metal bar like a demented monkey, gagging loudly in the cement stairway until I recovered. Pulling myself up, I proceeded down towards an unknown level. For all I knew, I was on the fiftieth floor.

But it was only the third.

And thank god for that. I practically cried when I saw the glaring red "EXIT" sign. Slamming my entire body into the door, I flew out into the sun. I regretted that instantly. My eyes burned and my stomach lurched, threatening more dry vomiting. But I managed to swallow down the feeling. Then I saw the payphone. I didn't even know they still made those.

Holding myself up on the frame of the metal box, I grabbed the clunky phone and poked the zero.

"Operator." The sound exploded in my head like a gunshot and I wrenched the receiver from my ear.

"Fuck me." I muttered, covering my eyes with a hand, falling forward into the phone.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was nasally and irritated, blasting from the ancient device. Pulling myself together, I took a couple breaths.

"I need to make a collect call." I murmured, still hiding my eyes. The dark was helping, taking me away.

"Your name?" Her tone was curt and back to business.

"Harley Todd."

"And the number?" I rattled off the digits from memory. This wasn't the first, or last, time I'd be making this call. Better to be honest than constantly a disappointment. When the operator finished, I waited as the phone rang.

"Harley! I've been wonderin' where ya been for days!" My mother, shrill and to the point. I felt no guilt at the genuine fear that mingled with the sadness in her voice.

"Yeah. I need a ride." Apologizing was something I rarely did. Currently, the only thing I was sorry about was the pounding hangover in my skull….and maybe the guy in the tub. The phone hissed at me as my mother sighed. I could almost see her, cigarette in hand, exhaling as she cradled the phone against a shoulder.

"Where are ya?" She finally muttered. Good question. I groaned and glanced around the lot. East city. Definitely. Squinting, I read the battered, and pathetic, sign that marked the building.

"The Square…probably on the east side." She was silent, most likely occupied with stomping around the tiny apartment.

"I swear Harley, someday I'm gonna just leave ya on your own. Teach ya a lesson…" She started in on a rant, the same one I'd heard for over a year. It was an empty threat and she knew it, but she needed to feel like an authority. A parent. As much as I loved my mother, Debbie Todd was not a parent.

"I'll just wait on the curb." I mumbled. She'd show up soon. If I was right, and I'd woken up in strange places all over Boston, the apartment was within a ten-minute drive. And then I'd be on my way home. I didn't wait for her to respond before I hung up, starting to the nearest street to plunk onto the sidewalk.

A man with a shopping cart wandered down the block across the street, watching as I slumped forward over my legs. Cupping my hands, I shielded my eyes from the sun, letting myself fall into a semi-relaxed lull. But the pain didn't subside, only continued to throb in my head and down my neck. As I winced, my mind suddenly settled on a cure, a thirst. My elbow itched and my fingers flew to it, rubbing the skin impatiently. I could feel them, the pits and aching spots on my flesh. A fix would stop the pain. That side of my mind started to stir, the need growing to a hum in my body. I bit my bottom lip, fighting the urge to whine and beg. There was no one to plead with, no one to bribe. Clutching my arms around my chest in a vice, I buried my face in my knees and waited.

She didn't get out of the car. It just appeared in front of me and I threw my weight forward to grab at the vehicle. I barely got my butt off the curb, but my fist closed around the door handle and I reeled my feeble body up, settling my feet on the hot black asphalt. Then I threw open the door and flopped inside, curling up into a ball after I slammed the door behind me.

"Fuck, Harley." I didn't bother looking at her face. I knew what I'd see. Tears, shock, horror. Didn't matter. "Where are your shoes?" She was crying that time, the words coming out in a stuttered stream of whimpers.

"I don't know." I muttered, eyes closed as I lay my head on the armrest between us. Truth be told, I didn't know anything. What day it was, how long I'd been gone, what I'd done, who I'd been with, and where I'd been.

"Oh Harley." She was sobbing, shaking her head too probably. "What am I supposed to do?" I didn't answer that one. There wasn't an answer. Since I was a kid, Deb had let me loose, inadvertently of course. Now, I was beyond punishment. And she knew this. I'd only vanish, achieving the opposite.

"I'm tired." I whispered. After a few ragged breaths, she put the car in drive and I felt us ease forward.

The ride was mostly quiet. Deb might have asked a few questions, but I never answered. It was probably better I just pretended to sleep; it gave her a way to work out her pent up worries. When we got home, I suffered my way up the slight of stairs to the second floor apartment and Deb watched me fall into the bathroom, sprawling over the toilet in another fit of heaves.

"Deb?" His voice sent nasty shivers down my spine and I heaved hard, forcing tears from my eyes. Tim. "Jesus." He muttered, his voice growing louder as he peered into the bathroom. "Where were ya this time? Ya fuckin' whore." I gave a small laugh as he insulted me. But my mother remained silent, watching as he stepped inside.

"Ya worried your mother sick." He spat, standing over me and casting a shadow. Tim was tall and thin with long, stringy brown hair. Deb had impeccable taste. This recent model had lasted six months so far, and he'd been running the roost like he'd been there for years. I managed a grin as I looked up at him.

"Whatever, Todd." I muttered, laughing as he flexed his jaw. His hand took hold of a chunk of my hair and he reeled me from the floor. Deb didn't move, but just watched, crying into her palm.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth." He growled in my face. Fear was something I'd given up on years ago. When you've wished for death more than once, suddenly fear seemed stupid. What was the worst that could happen? Tim looked back at my mother, hand still fisted in my hair.

"Get ta work. I'll handle this." Her eyes were wet and scared but she eventually nodded. Of course. I expected nothing less from her after years of the same treatment. Tim dangled me as she pattered around the apartment and collected her uniform. She worked at a gas station down the street, convenient so she was around for her master's every beck and call. Purse in hand, she cast me one last look before leaving. It said, I'm sorry. But I didn't care. Because she'd never stopped it. Any of it. And she never would.

Then we were alone.

"Fuckin' whore." He started to growl at me, using his grip to drag me towards my room. I knew what was next. It wasn't the first time. But it still made my throat close, the memories and disgust. Fighting was useless; I learned that long before Tim. And in my current state, I just let him. Just waited, closed my eyes, and forced myself away. His stench filled my nose and his grunts rang in my ears, but I wasn't there. He had my body, but I kept my mind. When he was finished, which didn't take long, he merely shoved me away and zipped his jeans. Then he laughed.

"You're more pathetic than the old lady." He sneered, striding from the room with a victorious chuckle. The slam of the door was like music to my ears. Slowly I rolled to the side of my bed, hanging over the mattress to see under. I slipped a finger into a tiny hole and pulled loose a floorboard, revealing the dwindling stash hidden beneath. Thankfully, Tim wasn't a bright bulb and Deb never ventured under my bed. So I could always count on the hiding place.

I prepared the last of my stash with haste, moving faster than I had all morning. It's amazing what you can achieve with proper motivation. Heating a spoon and filling a needle was done in the blink of an eye and I found myself lying back, arm tied off and posed. Goodbye hangover. I smiled as the warmth filled my body and I gave into the peace.


	3. From the top

My story doesn't really start somewhere neat. There are bits and pieces of foggy history and memories, but if I had to choose a place, it would be the party before the fire.

* * *

><p><strong>September 2004<strong>

It was nothing out of the ordinary. I found myself stumbling around a warehouse, beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was grinning and sweating, humping my right thigh as I stood in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. I must have been smiling back, because he let out sporadic giggles, touching my face with his beefy fingers. In the center of a mass of people, it was easy to get lost in the stench of lust. The entire building was hot as hell, soaking any sheer material and revealing all manner of body parts. And it was fun, moving as a group to an animalistic rhythm. The guy pressing his dick into my leg landed a warm kiss on my exposed shoulder and I let my head fall back, releasing a deep moan. The drumming of the bass traveled up my legs from the floor and suddenly I was vibrating all over, swaying side to side. This is what living is for. The same beefy fingers massaged into my hips, taking control of my lower body. Lover boy was getting gradually more impatient, grinding a growing bulge into my ass.

That's when the itch started. As it always did, it started in my head, squirming like a bad dream. Then it would shoot to my elbow, demanding the prick of a needle, the burn of a fix. Sex was like a gateway drug to me now. All arousal brought on the need. And it would grow and fester until I was whimpering, desperate. In some cases, sex was my tool, my payment for the heroin I craved. Looking around the room, I scoured for a dealer. There were always drugs at these parties, and if I was going to survive the night, I needed to score.

Then I spotted him, his cocky grin and bulky bod calling from across the room. His hands were hidden as he slipped something to a blonde, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. I had my dealer, now it was just the money that I needed. Unlike my regular dealer, fucking wasn't going to get me anywhere with this guy. He could get laid for free. His shoulders were rock solid, busting from a white wifebeater. A black tattoo spanned the back of his baldhead, and others blanketed his pecks and shoulder blades. My heart sank when I saw the tribal tats. He was a Darley member. I let out a whine as my situation suddenly became worse than expected. And beefyfingers thought it was something else.

"Come on baby. Let's get outta here." He purred into my ear. Irritation mixed with frustrated anger and I huffed to myself, letting him lap at my neck. As I formed a plan, he cupped my breasts, playing with them through my tank. After years of unwanted touching, I could tune him out without any effort, watching the Darley dealer lean back and light a cigarette. He kept one arm straight at his side while the other lifted the smoke to his lips. It wasn't a sure thing, but the pose made me think of my own tracks. How I would keep one arm under the table around my mother, always kept it just out of her sight. Maybe he used his own dope. With that glimmer of hope, I shot away from my current dance partner and vanished into the crowd before he could protest.

I scanned the moshing people around me. It wasn't a good idea to make a move on a Darley member. But from what I could see, he was alone. Possibly making a single drop before moving on. This was slightly out of his turf. He spotted me as I put on a devilish smile, appearing at the edge of the crowd. Despite my dwindling body weight, I knew I looked good. My hair had started out straightened, surrounding my head and neck. But now it hung in sweaty strands, tossed about around my shoulders. A ripped jean skirt sat on my hips, the torn ends falling just below the curve of my ass while a black tank and stilettos finished the look. The dealer puckered his lips in a smirk and nodded, grinning as I approached in a slinky stride. He was already feeling me, sweeping his eyes down my stomach to my thighs. What he didn't see was my triumphant smile when I found his tracks. They were well hidden beneath his tanned complexion, but they were there. This was the leverage I needed.

"Ya need somethin' flaca?" He purred, flashing his white teeth. I mimicked the grin, coming in close to him. The smoke of his cigarette tangled with my own and I took a drag, careful to pull the end from my lips slowly. Anything to make him want me. Anything for that needle.

"You could say that." I said with a bat of my eyelashes. "But now that I see ya…" With the tips of my fingers, I stroked the marks on his arm. "…I wonder if I should ask ya that same question." He grinned and glanced down at my mouth.

"I don't need a hook up. I am the hook up." I let out a dark chuckle. Even though I planned to use this guy, he was genuinely fun to play with.

"Then lets hook up…" My hand boldly found its way between his legs. Right on target, it landed on his cock and I moved against it. "…big boy." I added, only slightly lying as he started to grow rigid in my hand.

"No." The voice boomed in my ear and I jumped. I hadn't seen him approach and apparently neither had the dealer. He instantly dropped his stupid grin and I turned, coming face to face with Billy Darley. Tattooed, bald, towering, Billy Darley.

"Get lost." He snarled. His dark eyes pierced into mine and I returned the angry expression.

"Or what?" It was a bad idea and I knew that. But who said I made good decisions? His hand gripped my jaw in a painful vice within seconds and I let out a shriek. No one heard over the music and Billy pulled, yanking me onto my tip toes as he glared.

"I'll put a bullet between your eyes." He hissed. And I knew he would. So I softened my expression, lowered my gaze, and he dropped me. "Now get out." He repeated. As I looked up to walk away, I noticed a small group had gathered around us. A black man flanked his fuming leader, and a short man with a face tat stood next to him. His gang. They must have just arrived. Deadly glares hit me from all sides, the fiercest coming from the tall, black guy. He practically wore the same expression as Billy, full of hatred. As I started my retreat, I heard the gang lord's booming voice below the bass of the music.

"Fuckin' whore." Suddenly that same hatred filled me to my core. I tossed one last glance over my shoulder and clamped down on my jaw. By then, Billy was leant against the wall beside his dealer, hissing a cloud of smoke through his pursed lips. I barely knew the man, but in that moment, I wanted to claw his face with my nails. Rage filled my thoughts and I charged back into the sweaty mass of bodies. My old partner was wandering near the edge of the group, almost exactly where I'd left him. With a sharp tug on his belt, I pulled him flush to my hips and started sucking his collarbone.

"Two hundred and ya can take me home…do whatever ya like." I purred into his ear. The idiot forgave my sudden disappearance instantly, nodding quickly and tugging us towards the exit. If I was going to be called a whore by every man, I might as well charge for my services. Lord knows I needed the cash.

A blow job and a rigorous ride later, beefyfingers collapsed onto his own sheets, mumbling praise as he patted my ass. Pushing myself off my hands and knees, I clamored from the bed and retrieved my skirt and tank. Thankfully, his stamina was like most men, low. And he was fading fast, breathing heavily after grunting and sweating over my back. I had checked out the moment we'd left the party. His hands had groped every inch of my body and all I could think about was the twitching sensation in my elbow. When he'd mounted me like a dog, I'd thought about the wonderful warmth that awaited me.

Picking through his discarded jeans, I retrieved his wallet and withdrew three hundreds. He let out a snore as I tucked the bills into the waistband of my thong. I deserved a tip…and cab fare.

I waited outside for the taxi, smoking in the cooling night air. Rubbing my arms, I realized my birthday was coming up. One more year on earth. But was it a celebration? I didn't answer the question, a yellow vehicle coming to lurching stop in front of me. As I climbed inside, I pulled out my cell phone, directing the driver as I dialed. The man said nothing as he drove away from the curb and I hugged myself, listening to the rings as they droned on in my ear.

"Yeah." I exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Tix? It's Harley. I'm comin' by." The man on the other end was my local dealer. He lived only a few blocks from my mother's apartment and it made buying easy.

"Ring the bell five times." He grunted. Then he hung up the phone, ending the call in a quick snap. I didn't mind. I wasn't a talker either. Right now, all I wanted was to shove the wrinkled bills in my underwear into Tix's palm. And he'd reward me, like he always does. I needed this. After seeing Billy, even more so. He made me feel like a stranger in my own skin. Unworthy of even existing in his presence.

Fuck him. Boston was my home too.

Tix's apartment complex was one of the nicer developments in the area, due to the fact that he could afford the higher rent. Because of this, his building was secured with a buzzer. Every time I bought from Tix, I got a different number. I poked at the button five times, remembering the assigned number of rings and hoping I hadn't heard him wrong. You don't get anything if you don't follow instructions. Drug dealers are spooked easily and Tix was no exception, especially now with his current success.

The door clicked open and I stepped inside swiftly, striding down the hall to his apartment. Number 6. After a few knocks, he appeared and we made a quick exchange in a flurry of hands. During the day, the deal might have been more personal. But it was nearly five in the morning and we both knew the time for bargaining and fun wasn't now. I was shaking with need and he was drowsy with sleep. So, only a minute after entering the building, I was walking out and sliding back into the cab.

"Around the corner, on Foster." I said to the driver, clutching the small baggy in my palm. The sooner I got home, the sooner the heroin would be in my vein. He started away from the corner and I took long breaths, holding myself together for the few blocks left.

"Lady." I almost didn't hear him. I was fixated on the fist I held in my chest. Just possessing it made me feel nothing, numb. I wanted to drown in that feeling. "Hey lady." The driver repeated himself louder and I snapped to attention. Blue and red lights flashed in my eyes and I watched as we neared a display of fire engines and police cruisers.


	4. Losing

Nothing really prepares you for a death. And no one tells you how it's going to feel. You can debate whether or not you'd do this, or do that. But it all comes down to the gut reaction. The slap of reality when you realize what you've lost. That person: that voice, that smile, that strange laugh, its all gone. Finished.

* * *

><p>At that point, heroin was the furthest thing on my mind. The snap of a finger and I was running from the car, tripping stupidly over the bad road in my stilettos. In a moment of clarity, I remembered to tuck my fix into my thong, praying a policeman wouldn't frisk me for fun. Not that it hadn't happened before.<p>

The apartment complex was surrounded with police cars and a few fire trucks spotted the flood of sedans. It was utter chaos. There were streams of water aimed at the building and people huddled together across the street. My throat hurt and I ran a palm over my neck, blinking at the scene. And then I heard the cry. It was cracked and weepy, whining in the background of my mind. I took a breath and realized it was my own cries that hummed in my chest.

"Mom." What was I saying? With a swallow, I stumbled forward again. Clawed hands reaching for the nearest person, my mind was shattered. It was a black pit, smoking in the distance as it was hosed from all sides. It had probably been aflame for a while before help had come. That's how it was on this side of town. You call from a nicer place, you got the speedy response. Call from the dumps and you better be prepared to wait.

"Mom." It was pathetic, my voice. You'd think I was six. Regardless, I was terrified. A familiar face was at my side and suddenly my weight was being supported. Held.

"Harley thank god." Mr. Dobbs. A neighbor. "We didn't know if—"

"Where is she?" I was hysterical, thrashing my head around to look in the crowd.

"They haven't—" He was trying to comfort me, whisper even. And it only spooked me further. His tone spoke of bad news. The swirl of confusion somehow picked up anger and I pushed away.

"Where the fuck is Deb?" I lurched forward and a cop turned, landing me right in his crosshairs.

"You family?" He asked, stepping away from the yellow tape blocking the sidewalk.

"I live here, asshole." I muttered. "She's not out here." My eyes still continually scanned the crowd of people, wrapped in robes and each other. Debbie wasn't there. And I felt panic heat my stomach. He tried to guide me away from the tape but I was plowing forward, as if the destroyed structure beyond held answers.

"Miss, please wait over her—"

"She's not out here!" His hands on my upper arms started to hurt as I pushed against the grip. Dobbs was back, aiding the officer as I squirmed.

"Harley, just—" A voice behind me and a voice in front yet I only heard my own progressing cries. It might have been the need, or maybe the three beers in my empty gut, but I was inconsolable. The cop finally grabbed my bicep and yanked me towards a cruiser, while Dobbs and a few others watched.

"Miss, I need you to relax or I'm going to put you in the car." Before I could respond, his eyes found the marks in my elbow. _Fuck._ Then his face changed. Like he'd been told a secret, or I'd sprouted a third eye. When he addressed me again, it wasn't the same. "You have ID on you?" With a snort, I rolled my head back. My skirt and tank barely concealed my body, let alone anything else. _The heroin. _

"No, my purse was at home." I kept my answer short, understanding the shit I'd stomped into. My tears had momentarily quelled, my face wet but starting to dry in the hot air. He nodded and opened the back door of the car.

"Why don't you have a seat?" _Fuck fuck fuck._

"My mom, her name is Debbie Todd. Can you—" He nodded impatiently and cut me off.

"Just sit down and I'll find out what I can. But I want you to stay here." In other words, I wasn't getting out of the storm I'd skipped into. As I cursed myself, I cursed Deb. If she was alive, I was going to kill her. Then I was back to crying, thinking about a world without my mother. As silly as it sounded, I was heartbroken. My whole life I'd thought the worst of her, hated her lack of intervention or control. But she had always picked up the phone, always patched me up, fed me. In her own way, Deb had tried. And I must have known that all along.

Otherwise, bawling in the back of a police cruiser wouldn't have happened. I tried to fight away the tears, tried to hold a little of my anger to keep appearances. But it didn't work. My mind would wander back into a horrible vision of solitude and darkness. What would I do for money? Where would I live? _You'd be a whore, living off whatever greasy men would give you for a roll in the sack. _And it would start me crying again, wishing to wake up in my room. I'd even deal with a wicked blackout, waking up in an alley. Anything to just have this moment go away.

When someone knocked on the window, I jumped.

"Miss, I'm gonna take you down to the station." _That can't be good._

"Why?" It was all I could muster, afraid of the implications. Had I really been that irritating, that they were arresting me? Or was it the track marks on my arm?

"We have a few bodies and we need to identify them. They'll have some questions for you." And that was how I knew. Some bodies. No one tried to lie. It was all formalities at this point. Get the girl to fill in the blanks, tag the toes, and bury the ashes. That's what they wanted. Deb was gone.

And I was alone.

* * *

><p>Who knows how long I was sitting in that police station. I can't remember. That night blurred into a horrible haze of sadness, confusion, and withdrawal. If my need was bad before, it was raging now. But the first thing I did, once left to myself that is, was visit the bathroom and flush my redemption down the toilet. Getting caught with that was the last thing I needed to be thinking about. Because thinking about anything was a strain.<p>

"What's your full name?"

"Harley Jean Todd."

I was huddled in a chair, arms hugging my body. It was freezing in the stupid cop bin and no one bothered to hand over a coat, so I was left in my skin. The blond, porky detective on the other side of a desk looked me over for the hundredth time and then continued scribbling on a pad of paper.

"And you lived in the building with your mother?"

"Yeah."

"Her name?"

"Deb." He stopped chewing his gum, mouth open in an irritated glare.

"Full name."

"Debra Todd." With a few slashed of the pen, he glanced back down at his notes. It was probably his third interview of the night; several other people from the apartments were sitting in the lobby, waiting.

"And it was just you and your mother?" I scoffed, wishing I could pretend Tim didn't exist. But if he was dead, I'd already received that gift.

"No. Her boyfriend lived there too. Tim somethin'." Again, the cop glanced up at me without tilting his face up from the desk. And his eyes said the same thing everyone else was thinking. _Junkie whore._ It was like I'd branded it into my forehead without realizing it.

"So you, your mother, and Tim somethin'. Anyone else?" I shook my head and he finished scribbling as another officer crossed the room. The same one who'd driven me to the precinct. He didn't look at me as he leaned into his coworker, murmuring into his ear. The porker chewed for a moment and then tossed a glance my way before nodding and taking a piece of paper from the cop's outstretched hand.

"You're a minor." He blurted. I shrugged.

"Technically." Blondie shook his head and plucked a phone from its cradle. The bristles of his mustache bunched as he sniffed, reading the paper in his hand.

"Well, then I gotta release ya to a guardian until we sort this out." My stomach dropped.

"What the fuck, no! I'm not…" He held up a palm to silence me as he started jabbering into the phone.

"Kathleen, its Vin from homicide. I've got a girl who needs temporary custody." He chewed as the other side spoke and I stood up. No way was I staying with a stranger. I could take care of myself.

"Sit. Down." He hissed, pointing with a fat finger. I fumed at him from above for a moment, then reluctantly plopped back into the chair.

"Yeah. Todd, Harley." The way he rattled off my name made me sick. Another for the ranks of orphans. I must have sat there, memorizing his pens and paperclips, because his voice snapped me from a daze. "I see. Yeah. We'll see what we can do. No I know. Thanks." With a sharp clang, he dropped the phone and flattened the page on the desk.

"Well Miss Todd, according to our records, your father is legally responsible for your guardianship if your mother is otherwise unfit to care for you."

Horror. There was no other word for it. My body convulsed internally and shuddered on the outside. How did they know? Deb had kept it quiet for so long…

"Miss Todd?" He had a slight frown of concern. Maybe if I fainted he'd reconsider sending me home with that man. My biological father. I had one memory of him and it still chilled me to the bone. He'd sooner leave me to starve than provide "guardianship".

"My father's dead." It was a weak lie and I knew it wouldn't work the moment I thought of it. And just like I'd expected, Blondie didn't bite.

"You and I both know that's not true." He stood and circled the desk, resting his rump against the edge of the front. "Your daddy is alive and well in this very city." It was like he'd found Waldo with the grin on his face. Maybe he sensed the fear, or maybe he thought I deserved the punishment. Because that's what it was. A punishment.

"I'm not leaving with him." I murmured, rubbing my elbow subconsciously. What I would give to run and hide. Shack up with Tix and shoot up. The cop leant into my face.

"It's either that or we keep ya until morning when a social worker can take you." He glanced at my arm. What an ass. He knew exactly why I couldn't accept the alternative. I'd be a mess by morning and the police would only pry further into my problems. When I didn't answer, he chuckled and walked back around to his chair.

"That's what I thought." He poked a few keys on the computer and left me in silence. My life was about to change horribly. My mother was probably dead. No, she was. Better stop kidding myself. And I was going to be handed to my father. He'd dialed while I stared at the floor and his voice made me jump.

"Mr. Darley? This is Detective Peterson from Boston Homicide."


	5. Enter daddy

I suppose to move forward, sometimes you have to look back. Anyway, my father was just a word for the majority of my life. Never a face or a name. Not until I was eight. That was the first time I saw Bones Darley in person. And my world was never the same.

* * *

><p><strong>October 1994<strong>

"Son of a bitch!" I flinched involuntarily at the yell, peering over my shoulder at the man on the couch. He set a beer can down on the coffee table roughly, swearing under his breath as his eyes focused on the television. Colors moved and swirled on the screen, football players running in and out of the frame as the game progressed. My mother appeared from the back hall and picked up the empty can, standing momentarily in front of the blond man.

Bob. He was her third boyfriend that I can recall. Now, he wasn't a good guy, but he never touched me. His interests were more…developed than that of the next boyfriends. Bob was a drunk. He'd disappear off to the bars and come back, barely able to stand. And when he could stand, he'd scream and bitch at everything in sight. Mostly my mother, sometimes me. Regardless of his lack of physical violence, his words had been enough. I avoided him like the plague, returning from school and running straight to my room. But today my mother had asked me to sit at the table, do my homework as she started dinner. It was a feeble attempt at drawing us together.

"Deb, move." He said gruffly, pushing her hip to the side to remove her from his view. She reached out to brush a little of his hair with her fingers, but he scooted down the couch, staring with wide eyes at the screen. I saw this sort of thing often. If I had to choose one, I think my mother liked Bob the best. He was the best looking of them all, but that wasn't saying much. Apart from the beer gut and bad farmer's tan, he could have passed for a normal guy. Maybe a banker or businessman. But he was a garbage man, working only a few hours in the morning before returning to our apartment, reeking worse than death.

My mother gave a small sad smile and crossed the room, brushing my black bangs over my forehead in the same affectionate manner.

"You hungry, baby?" She cooed to me. Her voice had once been so sweet and loving. Before our world had poisoned her, poisoned us both.

"I'm fuckin' starvin'." Bob grunted from the couch. I glanced at him once again, swinging my feet under my chair. Of course he didn't realize she'd been addressing me, he was too absorbed in his game.

"Yes." I replied softly, eyeing the blue box sitting in the cupboard shelf. Kraft macaroni. Actual blue box mac 'n cheese. It was rare to get it, and it was calling to me like sunken treasure from that tall shelf. Deb knew this and she grinned, cupping my chin to kiss my forehead.

"Alright sweetheart." That made Bob turn his head and he had his eyebrow cocked. When his gaze rested on my little figure, he tossed me a small nod, like I was his casual acquaintance at a bar.

"Babe." My mother looked up and he was already focused back on the TV. "Beer." With a quick nod, Deb retreated into the kitchen and withdrew another can, opening it and crossing the room in a hurried scuffle. He didn't thank her, but instead slapped her butt, giving it a squeeze before she could walk away.

I stared back down at the math problems on my worksheet, glaring at the black and white. Just something to distract me from the happenings around me. I could hear Bob kissing her. Breathy and grunt-like. He sounded like an ape. During everything. And I mean everything. They weren't quiet lovers and I'd grown accustom to their sounds, forcing the images from my mind as I lay awake at night. Little did I know there were worse things.

A knock at the door made all of us turn. My mother stood from Bob's lap, straightening her shirt from where he'd been mashing it. He sat up a little straighter and kept a hold on Deb's waist, turning to look at me once again.

"Hey, get the door." Hey. That was my name. Hey. Either that or Kid. Honestly, I don't think Bob ever used my real name. He probably didn't know it. Deb made no move to interject so I slipped from my seat and pattered across the tile floor in my bare feet. When a second round of bangs hit the wooden door, it shook on the hinges and I cringed, hesitantly raising a hand to turn the knob.

The chain was on, so it only opened a few inches before jolting to a stop. By then, Deb had sat back down in Bob's lap and he was stroking her thigh as he became engrossed in the game again. I swallowed as I stared at the man outside the apartment.

He was huge. That was my first observation. Bob was probably only about five foot ten, eleven at the most. This man was over six foot, towering in the doorframe like a giant. To an eight-year-old, he was massive. And his build increased the intimidation. Every muscle in his torso was apparent under the white wifebeater he wore beneath a loose black jacket. A tattoo of large wings caught my eye, branching up from under his shirt and over his collarbone and shoulder. His hair was buzzed, short but obviously dark, matching the black aviators over his eyes. A huge hand gripped the knob on the outside and I ended my examination there, horrified at the sheer size. He could kill me with his bare hands, snap me like a twig.

Taking a step back, I tried to find my voice but he didn't rush me. We both were silent, staring like mutes. If I could have seen his eyes, I would have seen the same searching look, scouring me from head to toe. What he saw was a stick of a girl, with thin black hair and pale grey eyes, mouth open in awe at the man before her. And he didn't seem to dwell on that image for long. After a few moments, he flexed his arm and with a harsh jolt, ripped the door open. The chain tore from the wall and bits of wood came with it, flying out as he stepped into the room. I shielded my face from the small pieces, but remained rooted in my spot.

"Jesus! Bones what are—" Bob was the first one to bolt. He was running from the couch towards the back bedroom in a heartbeat, probably to the fire escape, throwing my mother to the side like a limp rag doll as he went. Deb let out a small yelp as she dropped to the couch, hitting her head on the armrest. But no one saw that. The intruder was across the room in seconds, taking Bob by the hair and shirt to chuck him into a wall.

"Why ya runnin'?" The man growled. I was in tears immediately. No reason. He hadn't even been facing me. But they roared from my eyes all the same. His very voice scared me witless, and I let out a small choked sob. Deb was off the couch and running to Bob's aid.

"Bones! What the fuck are ya doin'?" My throat hurt as cries gathered in my chest. That name. I knew that name. The dark haired man merely shrugged her away and focused his attention on Bob, pulling on his collar until the shorter man could barely touch the floor.

"Your taste has gone to shit, Deb." Bones spat, slamming Bob's head into the wall. "Little bitches." I took a breath and shivered, another cry moaning from my lungs. I wasn't being loud, but I wasn't quiet. And Bones finally noticed. With one hand, he tore his glasses from his face and dropped Bob to the floor.

"STOP." He boomed, staring at me. And I did. Hell, I stopped breathing after a command like that. Deb smacked his shoulder and Bones turned.

"You're scaring her! Just go away!" Now she was crying, but she managed to look angry as she did. I'd never seen her stand up to a man, especially one like this.

This man.

That's when it hit me. The name. The dark hair. The way Deb was crying. It all pointed to one answer.

The man terrorizing us was my father. And the realization must have registered on my face, because Bones caught my eye and held it for a moment before he moved again. Bob shifted against the wall and Bones was instantly on target. Without warning, he brought back a fist and slammed it in Bob's face. He drew blood on the first blow; it dripped to the floor and Bob bent over, spewing more across the wall. Then Bones took a handful of Bob's hair, wrenching him back to speak into his face.

"Ya walk in my bar again, I'll kill ya." A second punch rendered Bob unconscious and he fell to the tile like a sack of potatoes. Deb tugged on one of Bones' thick arms, crying harder after her lover had fallen.

"Stop hurting him!" He brushed her off like a leaf and cracked his neck, crossing the room slowly.

"It's between us men, Deb." His voice sent a shudder down my spine and I took a ragged inhale, suddenly dizzy. Lack of breathing can do that. It bought me another glance, but it was short lived.

"Get in the fuckin' car." At first, I thought he was talking to me. And I would have obeyed. But his eyes weren't on me, they rested on the doorway from which he'd emerged. So I followed his gaze, and was surprised to find someone else in the room.

A blond boy, no older than thirteen. He was tall, thin, and frowning. From his spot inside our door, he was glaring around the room. Then he eyes settled on me and I winced from the hate found in those irises. Steel blue and piercing.

My brother. Half brother anyway. That was my first encounter of my family. Not all of it, mind you, but the majority. And my own blood was looking at me like I was scum. To this day, I will have nightmares of that afternoon, the hate in Billy's eyes. Only it kills me in the dream. I burn from within as he listens to me scream. Him and Bones. They leave as if nothing is wrong. Like they did that day. They walk down the hall and leave our door open. They climb into a dark grey 1969 Camaro and roll away.

And I never saw Bones again.

But I did hear the story again when I was older. Years later, I found Bob, slumped over a bar as he forced down another three fingers of whiskey. He didn't recognize me, but that was quickly remedied when I mentioned my mother. It was sort of sad. In those drunk, watery eyes, I saw a sense of regret. Maybe Bob had really liked my mother. Deep down, I think he might have been a nice guy.

According to Bob, Bones attacked him because of a story. One that he'd told too loudly one night at the Four Roses. A story about a woman named Stephanie, a dancer named Debbie, and a little girl with black hair.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think. This is very different from anything I've EVER done and I'm very interested to hear what you thought. Thank you so much for reading!<strong>


	6. To the bottom

There's a saying: when it rains, it pours. And for me, that rule always applied. Nothing ever went smoothly, but when things went badly, they were awful. It had always been that way. Losing Deb was only the beginning.

* * *

><p>When I saw him walk inside, I knew immediately who he was. No, I'd never met Joey Darley, but his face was enough. We had the same thin, narrow features. Odd, since our father didn't share these traits. But it had echoed in us somehow. He was tall, as am I, and built lean. Our differences appeared in our coloring. His hair was a dark blond, almost brown while mine was a solid black.<p>

I'd been sitting in a stiff lobby chair for almost three hours, shaking with hunger and need. The detective had put a uniform out in the room with me, and the guy had practically begged to do it. Everyone was watching me now. Like a circus attraction. Even the people from my apartment building. They stared and whispered his name. Darley. It was the biggest secret I've ever managed to keep, and now my father was letting me fall apart in a police station. Figured. The man hadn't parented me a single day of his life, why start now?

So when Joey Darley showed up, I'd been surprised. Not only because it wasn't Bones, but because someone had showed up at all.

To anyone, it was very clear we were related. Thankfully, it was only evident when we were in the same room, but it was more obvious than I would have ever guessed. And it made the cop beside me straighten, glancing between us with raised brows.

"You Harley?" Joey addressed me with a slight nod. And I crossed my legs. Regardless of what he looked like, he wasn't my family.

"Who's askin?" I muttered, fiddling with the torn edges of my skirt. He didn't answer right away. Perhaps he was still processing my appearance himself. It was quite a mind-numbing situation: meeting a sibling for the first time, fully grown. Half sibling. I had to remember that, repeat it to myself.

We weren't family.

"I'm Joe." He finally answered. "Billy's outside." That was proof enough, I suppose. So the cop murmured a few forgetful instructions then let us leave, watching me shuffle to the front door with the youngest Darley. Joey. Wracking my brain, I tried to remember how old he was. Twenty? Twenty-one?

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut." He murmured to me, pulling out a cigarette once we were outside. I crossed my arms, trying to hide the shakes that taken over since dawn.

"Yeah?" I pushed his patience, feeling for his stance. I knew Billy's. What did the younger brother have to say?

"Yeah." He muttered, almost indifferent. "Bill doesn't give warnings." Before I could ask what he meant, a car growled to life and Joey flicked open a lighter. While he lit a cigarette, I scanned the lot for the menacing Mustang. It was a celebrity in itself. If you saw Billy Darley's Mustang coming down the road, you did one of two things. Run. Or pray he wasn't looking for you. Too many times I've had to duck from the sidewalk to avoid the roaring black car. So the sound put me on guard and I swallowed when it appeared, slinking past a row of police cruisers. It moved like a predator, gliding along without care through the white and blue. Joey hissed smoke into the air and tugged on his collar, bringing the red leather jacket tight to his frame.

My stomach let out a sharp pain and I became acutely aware that I hadn't eaten for over a day. Add that to my growing exhaustion, cold, and withdrawal, you have one hell of a mess. My arms were shaking as I hugged them to my body. One way or another, I needed to get my hands on a fix. The Mustang suddenly swerved, squealing on the asphalt as it ripped around to meet us, parallel to the sidewalk. He'd been testing me, probably, and I knew I didn't pass. Not only did I jump but I was continuously trembling. Joey stepped off the sidewalk and opened the door. But instead of pulling the passenger's seat aside for me to crawl into the back, he did it himself, disappearing into the dark car. I gulped down a dry swallow and stepped off the curb.

"Hurry up." Billy's bass was venomous from his hidden seat inside. If I hadn't been shivering already, I would have definitely shuddered from his voice. Just like Bones, he had an effect on me that I couldn't control. Without protest, I sunk into the leather seat and closed the door, staring at my knees instead of the driver.

It was warm. The interior was heated and, like a tender embrace, the black leather hugged my freezing thighs. The tinted windows blocked out the morning sun and the air was dry and comfortable. Perfect. I leaned back slightly to touch my bare shoulders to the seat and my face relaxed. I'd never thought I'd ride in this car, let alone like this.

Billy lurched away from the station, flattening me to the seat as he sped up. It was only then that I looked at his face. Involuntarily, I turned as he took a sharp corner and threw me against the door. His expression was that of a marble statue. He was glaring out the windshield, clenching his jaw until the muscle bulged. Blue, cold eyes were nestled beneath a flat brow line, shadowed by the sharp bridge of his nose. This close and in this light, it was the clearest I had ever seen Billy.

I tried to watch where we went. For some reason, I felt like a new arrival in an alien town. Even though I'd lived here all my life, I read street signs in vain as he floored the car deeper into Stokely. My blood hummed at the sight. Wandering into this side of the city had always been off limits to me. Deb didn't need to tell me why; she'd just remind me of the visit from my father. And when I was thirteen, I encountered Billy. That day had giving me plenty of incentive to stay away.

As I'd started to lose myself in the view from my window, he slammed on the breaks. The inertia sent me reeling into the dash and Joey let out a grunt from the backseat. Looking over at Billy, I had half a mind to cuss or yell, but his expression silenced any protests.

"Get out." He growled. Joey leaned forward and peered out my window at out the destination. I did the same and hugged myself harder in confusion. The car sat at the mouth of an alley, leading down into a dark place even I didn't want to explore.

"Where do I go?" I asked, glancing at him with a bit of hope.

"The fuck makes you think I care?" He hissed back. And suddenly I was that little girl, scared into sobs by nothing but voice. Tears filled my eyes but I forced myself to feel anger. I was angry, but not as much as I was afraid. He didn't give me a beat before he twisted in his seat, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other clamped down on the armrest.

"GET OUT!" Joey wouldn't meet my eyes as I jumped and fumbled for the door handle. It was still cold and damp outside from the fresh dew that hung in the air. As I swung a leg out into the chilly street, Billy revved the engine, signaling his impatience. He would have peeled away with me half out of the car if I hadn't torn my second leg out in haste. I didn't even get the chance to shut the door before he'd sped off down the block. Watching the black car leave, I let the tears finally fall.

Alone, hungry, cold, and sick. My situation was the worst it had been all my life. And that was a shock. How did I not realize how lucky I had been? Sure, my childhood was a mess and I'd endured my share of nightmares, but this was a whole other realm of bad. A gust of wind shook me to the bone and I cried to myself, the sun slowly lighting the sky above.

"Hey girly." I whirled on the curb, clutching my arms. A fat man slunk from the alley, a dingy coat and matted hair hinting that he was homeless. Normally, I would just shrug him off or run. But I was stuck. Despair and helplessness had paralyzed me, holding me in place while he moved closer.

The thirst in his eyes was startling. A grin spread on his lips and he licked them, revealing his teeth, some grey and some missing. I swallowed and took a step back, noticing too late that there wasn't curb left behind me. So I fell, sprawling to the street with a harsh clash. A sob whined from my lungs and the man pounced, hands going straight to my hair. Instinct started to sink in and I kicked, thrashing weakly on the ground while he dug his dirty fingernails into my scalp.

Everything hurt, my head, my arms, my legs….and now he was dragging me the short distance from the street to the alley. I let out a shriek and he kicked, connecting with my stomach. It took all the air from my lungs and the taste of pennies grew in my mouth. As I wheezed for a breath, he pulled me to my feet and pinned me to the wall.

"Let's take a look." He hissed, his voice as greasy as his skin. I pushed on his filthy coat, trying to escape from his grasp as he found the bottom of my skirt and pushed it up towards my hips.

I clutched my eyes closed, hopeless as his fingers yanked at my skimpy thong, and I cried for my mother. God I'd taken her for granted. The endless late-night pickups, heartfelt tears, and desperate hugs. Then, one moment the bum was there, the next he was gone. It took me a moment to register that he'd fallen, clamoring on the ground. But from what?

A tall, tan man passed me and lashed out with his foot, kicking my attacker in the face. Blood sprayed from his nose and mouth and disappeared into the black asphalt as the homeless man screamed, trembling while he reached for his face. Without a single twinge of emotion, my savior turned and stared at me. Then he walked away towards the street and around the corner. I was quick to stumble after him, looking back at the bleeding man left in the alley. Chasing my defender down the block, I didn't notice the car until he'd stopped beside it.

"Goddamn halfwit." A voice rumbled from within and I froze in mid-step. The tan man opened the rear door of a waiting Cadillac DeVille, silently holding it. My heart did everything but stop. I knew what I'd heard and I knew what had to be waiting in that car. Not what, but who.

Gingerly walking on my painful stilettos, I hesitantly approached the door. When I didn't get in, the voice spoke again.

"Don't have all fuckin' day." At that, I sunk into the car without delay. And met a pair of dark, glaring grey eyes. The door slammed next to me and I jumped, unable to look away from my father's reflection in the rearview mirror.

His appearance wiped my mind. Not a single coherent thought crossed through my head as I sat, fixated on him. The once strong, frightening face was old, spotted with salt and pepper stubble. And the weight gain had altered him, more so than age. His strong jaw was lost in chubby jowls and loosened skin. His short, dark hair had faded and started to streak grey in the back, coming up in long, curly strands. Black, thick-rimmed glasses sat on his face, magnifying the cold eyes behind them.

"What a fuckin' mess." He mumbled, still staring at me. His man ducked into the passenger seat and Bones started the car. "Took ya time, huh?" He grunted to his companion.

"Sorry boss." We idled and no one spoke. The passenger didn't even look at him, choosing to look out the windshield instead. Finally, Bones slowly shook his head and changed gear.

"Sorry. Everybody's fuckin' sorry." As we pulled from the curb, I took a breath. "I'm sorry I fuckin' sent two idiots to do a simple thing. You're sorry that ya let a bum get ahead of ya. And Billy's gonna be sorry…" He faded away the sentence and looked up at the mirror, catching my eye again.

"He do that?" Bones asked casually, like he'd forgotten I was in the back of the car. Before I could answer, the passenger turned his head and glanced at me.

"Nah, bum knocked her down."

"I tripped." My eyes went wide with shock as my voice croaked from my throat. Why the hell was I speaking? Bones' eyes would glance to the road, but return to me, the car jolting his body as we locked gazes.

"You a whore?" He abruptly asked. I wanted to yell out in frustration, scream and kick. No one knew my life. But instead of anger, I only felt shame. A feeling I wasn't accustomed to. It bit at the corners of my eyes and sent a prickling sensation through my face.

"No." I whispered. My nails were wearing red lines into my forearms; I'd been scratching them since entering the car. So I grasped my elbows, huddling into myself.

"Then why the fuck ya dressed like one?" I didn't answer but didn't look away either. Even with tears filling my eyes, I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of hurting me this easily. Everyone else called me a whore. It wasn't new. With an amused snort, he shook his head, turning a corner. "Ya tripped." The ride continued in silence for several minutes as we drove through the city. Billy had apparently dropped me far from where I was supposed to go.

"Fuckin' punk." Bones growled suddenly. Tilting in my seat, I glanced through the windshield as we pulled up to a chain link fence. Parked beside us was the black Mustang. And leaning on the gleaming exterior, Billy himself.

My loving half-brother.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Hope you guys are enjoying this. =) More to come soon. <strong>


	7. Billy

Fear often stems from word of mouth. For Bones, I didn't need words. I'd seen his strength, I'd seen his anger. I knew to stay away. But as the years passed, my innocence was taken from me and my youthful obedience was replaced with spiteful defiance. Persuasion or warning does little to restrain an angry girl. And rules are intentionally broken. It would take a second encounter to rebuild that fear.

I had to learn my place the hard way.

* * *

><p>I'd had three boyfriends by the time I was thirteen. My first was seventeen when I met him. He was older than me, dangerous, rebellious, and cute. It was all a girl my age could dream of. And he ushered me into the real world.<p>

The true nature of the world is revealed at different stages in maturity. To some, the harsh reality of drugs, sex, and violence are hidden away for the majority of their lives, restricted to the television screen in the evenings. But to many, it appears early, festering in the alleys and basements, lurking just below our feet until we're tugged under. I was twelve and already I was falling into the seedy side of South Boston. I smoked pot, drank until I couldn't walk, and betrayed my body to the older, lustful boys around me. Anything to feel wanted by my peers, to feel anything besides the constant drone of unhappiness.

It was cold. I remember that, because I could see my breath when I'd snuck outside for a smoke. My current boyfriend, Curt, had taken me to a house, somewhere in Stokely. I knew it was a bad idea to be on this side of town. Deb had warned me countless times, trying to reach me in my haze of carelessness. I stood on the edge of a dilapidated porch, blowing my smoke into the sky. The whiskey in my stomach burned without food to dilute the affects and I was so drunk I was grasping the railing to stand.

Curt was probably inside with another girl. I wasn't stupid; I knew that he couldn't keep his cock in his pants. If it wasn't me, it was the next best thing. And at the moment, I was fine with it. Sex wasn't fun for me. Not like the girls in that house. They would spend the whole day primping for these parties, practically jumping to hook up with an older guy. A bartender or mechanic. Those boys were strong, big, and weren't shy. I looked old enough, budding earlier than most, so I often found myself pressed to men ten years my senior. Thankfully, Curt was eighteen, only five years older.

"Harley." I was shocked to hear Curt behind me and it took a bit of effort to turn as I clung to the railing.

"Yeah?" He was grinning and excited, stumbling out onto the porch with a strange hurry to his step. When he reached me, he fell into my face, clumsily sucking on everything but my mouth. Being thirteen, I only giggled and played along, dropping my cigarette in the process. His hands came up to my face and went flat against my cheeks. And he laughed with a breathy wheeze.

"The hard stuff is here." He whispered, pressing his lips to the corners of my mouth. I remember thinking he meant booze, so I joined in his enthusiasm, allowing him to drag me back into the hot house. When I say hot, I mean sweaty. So many bodies were crammed into such a small space that the air itself was a presence, hanging on your skin as you walked through it. And everyone seemed to be intent on touching us as we passed. If I hadn't been so drunk, I would have been slapping hands away. Curt pulled me through the crowd and towards the stairs.

"Upstairs." He purred to me. That's when I realized it wasn't the normal game. Curt was wrenching my hand, almost painfully, until my wrist started to throb. My buzz kept me from complaining, but climbing those steps was like climbing Everest. More than once, I tottered and almost landed on my ass. But Curt would yank on my arm, hauling me to my feet to pull me harder. "Come on." He would mutter, squeezing my hand so hard my fingers went numb.

When we finally reached the second floor, Curt hustled me into a bedroom.

"Oww." I whined, trying to take my hand away. But I quieted the second I surveyed the room. There were three boys inside, two of them standing while the third was seated on the bed, leaning over to prop his elbows on his knees. The moment we tumbled in the room, his head shot up and my chest seized. I knew those blue eyes.

"You're the ones with the shit, right?" Curt was foaming at the mouth, digging his wallet from his back pocket. One of the standing boys stepped forward, blonde messy hair tossed over his face.

"Who's askin'?" He growled, cutting off my line of sight from the seated boy. Curt laughed and shrugged.

"Aww come on, Bag. We went ta school togetha." The blond boy sniffed and examined Curt without blinking. If they'd ever been friends, you wouldn't have known. The second, significantly shorter boy stepped next to the first and they whispered. I remember taking small footsteps backwards, pressing my back to the door. My instinct to run was overwhelming, but I couldn't understand why. It was like being stuck in a stalled car, nothing responded to my command.

"How much?" The blond muttered to Curt.

"Get out." The seated boy suddenly barked, startling everyone in the room, including his two friends. Curt opened his hands at his sides.

"Come on, man. I'm—" When the third boy stood, he towered above his two companions, bigger in height and strength.

"I said, get out." He growled, his blue eyes blazing at Curt. My fear gripped me to the bone. It was a trauma, those eyes. And it froze me in my place, pinned me to that door. The two boys suddenly snapped from their stupor and closed in on Curt. Drunkenly frightened, he stumbled back, reaching for my arm. I held my hand out to him, never breaking the line of sight with my fear. Billy Darley.

He'd changed since that day in my nightmares. For one, he was large, filling a black t-shirt with sculpted muscle. Much larger than the lanky boy who'd appeared in my home several years ago. But that face. It was the same. Solid and serious, distinguished by his sharp nose and carved cheeks. His hair was tied back low on his neck, the once golden locks now a sunny chestnut brown. And he wore the same expression as he turned his eyes on me. My lungs emptied with a wheeze as he pierced me with his gaze.

"Not you." He ordered. Curt looked between us and he found his voice, trying to ease his way into a buy.

"Yo, Billy. It's cool if ya want 'er. I just want the shit." My throat closed, thinking of nothing more terrifying. But he wouldn't…he couldn't…

He was my brother.

Billy's venomous eyes settled on Curt and he raised a hand, flicking his wrist to his friends. And they sprang like trained dogs, each grabbing an arm of my traitorous boyfriend. He tugged on their hold and his face buckled into a horrified blubbering mess.

"No wait, it's cool, we can lea—" Billy crossed the room, trapping me to the wood against my back. He was so close I could smell him. Smoke and a lingering scent of cologne swirled between us as he loomed over me. But I didn't dare look at his face.

"You know who I am?" He spoke as if he was restraining himself, holding back a yell. I took a breath to answer, but my throat caught from lack of moisture. Choking slightly, I swallowed and nodded, trying to hold in the tears. They were waiting, right on the curve of my eyes.

"Billy man—" Curt tried to plead again, uselessly pulling on his captors, but Billy wouldn't hear any of it. With a quick turn of his head, he raised an arm and pointed at my boyfriend.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He bellowed so loudly I felt it in my chest. And a hiccup of a sob escaped my lips as I flinched up against the door. A smack boomed next to my ear and I whimpered as Billy flattened his palm near by head.

"You aren't welcome in Stokely." He growled. "If I catch ya here again…" Stepping away, he moved slowly towards Curt, his gaze still trained on my face. Then, without warning, he raised a fist and slammed it into Curt's cheek. My tears erupted, stinging as they burned their way to my neck. Billy didn't let up, his friends holding Curt in place as he cried out for mercy, begging in their arms. Over and over Billy's knuckles crashed into the delicate bones around the eyes, chin, and cheeks. Sobbing into my hands, I watched every moment. I was unable to look away, to close my eyes. And Billy met my eyes before each blow. It was a lesson, given by example. When Curt finally went limp, Billy stopped and stood still, dangling his arms at his sides while his friends dropped their victim.

With slow, drawn out steps, he moved closer yet again. My cries were hushed out of fear but they wracked my body like a seizure, rattling my back to the door. Billy halted a foot from my face and stuck out a finger. I whimpered at the blood on his hands, the splatters remaining on his knuckles.

"I'll kill ya."

I don't remember what cued my escape. He might have shoved me out the door, or I might have read some silent dismissal in his voice. But the image of the sidewalk under my bare feet is so vivid, it could have happened seconds ago. That night, I ran for blocks until I reached the nearest bus stop. And I never looked back.

Or stepped foot in Stokely.

Curt ended up in the hospital and lost all of his memory from that night. The story was that he fell down the stairs, and the police eventually stopped asking questions when no one could step forward to say otherwise. He wasn't ever the same either. His face was like a glued vase. You don't know what's wrong with it until you get close enough to see the faint remnants of destruction. But the real damage was done to his mind. The crazy, loud, outgoing Curt that irritated teachers and hit on girls disappeared and was replaced with a reclusive mute. We never spoke again.

I never told him the truth. That night was my fault. My immature disregard for boundaries brought a lesson that I'd never forget. And a beating Curt would never remember.

* * *

><p>And now here I was, in the heart of Stokely, stepping from a car into the grey morning. Billy's face fell flat when he saw me rise from the Cadillac. And he threw his cigarette away, watching his father, our father, haul himself from the driver's seat and start towards the Mustang.<p>

"Surprised?" Bones growled, waving a hand back in my direction. I shied away from the looks cast at me. Being the center of attention made even a small footstep feel like I was tromping around like Godzilla. "Thought ya could pull a fast one?" Bones sounded more irritated than angry, but Billy had frozen in a stance, feet shoulder-width apart and arms firmly at his sides. As if he expected attack, like he was standing his ground for a blow.

"I got enough problems without ya fuckin' around with my business." He hissed. Billy merely blinked and listened, locking and unlocking his jaw. Then Bones moved. It happened so fast, it was incredible it had originated from such a fat man. In a flash, Bones grabbed a handful of Billy's collar and wrenched him forward in a rough thrash. Then, as quickly as before, he threw him back, tossing his son against the side of his car. Billy maintained his balance, but a small wince registered on his face. It was a quick glimpse of intimidation, but it was there, and a speck of pity lit my chest. But, like Billy's flinch, it was gone instantly.

"Get inside." Bones bellowed, leading the way through the chained fence towards a lot full of old cars. Billy glanced at me for a second, hating me without words, then followed, adjusting his leather jacket with a tug. My tan, mystery rescuer passed, alerting me to his presence for the first time since we'd arrived. When I didn't follow, he stopped and looked back.

"That means you too." He murmured. Nodding, I shuffled to his side and obeyed. We weaved through the lot, passing old Chevy's and Buicks until we arrived at an entrance. Over the door, rusted metal letters spelled "Bones' Bodyshop". And through the doorway, there was darkness.


	8. Judged and sentenced

Stepping into the shop was like stepping underground. The light from the morning was reduced to a dim glow through large vents in the walls, the turning fans moving shadows over the floor. I stayed close to my guide, his broad shoulders and strong arms swinging side to side as he strode around a large room. Plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling, but a silhouette of a car was visible in the center. I wondered what work they actually did on cars, or if it was just a front for drugs or god knows what else.

"I should have ya beat ta hell for listenin' in on my calls." Bones boomed from ahead, his mighty voice resonating in the empty building. No one was there except our group; it was still fairly early.

"She doesn't belong here." Billy sounded almost identical to his father, their voices mingling in the echoes. But his bass was throaty and grating, reaching from a deep place within.

"So beatin' Steven ta the station and dumpin' her ass was your solution?" Bones slammed something and I jumped as I entered a back room. So that was why he'd come. Bones hadn't sent him; he'd tried to lose me for good. Probably left me knowing exactly what lurked in that alley. This time Billy didn't answer and I watched him square his shoulders and lean on a wall. From his spot, he could see the entire room and he used the position to glare unchecked in my direction.

"We ain't done." Bones muttered at his son, aware that he wouldn't get any answers from Billy in front of me. "Siddown." As I inched forward to a weak, wood stool, Bones settled into an office chair. It whined with his weight while I was practically silent on my seat. Our company, Steven I assumed, crossed his arms and waited, content to stand and watch.

"So…" My father grunted, leaning back into his chair. His raised brows were directed straight at me so I swallowed, looking for an answer. Nothing came to mind. I just stared, mouth open slightly in a stupid gape.

"Deb's dead." He stated, putting me on a path. But it did more than that. It brought back the fire and the sirens, flooded my memory with the truth I'd managed to avoid for a few hours. I shook and fought the whine of a cry in my voice.

"Yes." No one wavered or made a move toward pity. They wanted a story, not a weeping girl.

"And?" Bones said it loudly, jolting me slightly in my skin. He scared me through and through.

"The apartment burned down. The police told me I'll have to claim her…" I couldn't help but choke. Her body. Not my mother, but a burnt, crisp corpse that I probably wouldn't recognize. That would be my last visual of my mother. The last time I would see her.

"She didn't get out?" He asked, but it was rhetorical. I knew not to answer. With my knuckle, I brushed a large tear from my eye. "Goddamn." He muttered, like a man with another problem to fix. Which, when I thought about it, I was. I was his newest problem. And Bones was going to have to figure out something to deal with me. To fix me, so to speak.

"I just gotta tell 'em its her. Then you don't have to—"

"I'll make that call." Bones growled over me, ending my words. Billy inhaled in a harsh hiss and suddenly he was the center of attention.

"AND YOU WILL KEEP YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH SHUT!" Bones bellowed, glaring at his son. A strange warmth spread in my gut and I realized it was comfort. He was keeping Billy at bay and I bit my lip to keep my mouth closed. The silence settled like dust, the echoes of his voice slowly receding.

"What's this shit 'bout ya birthday?" He broke the quiet with a low mumble.

"It's in three weeks." I answered, chewing a nail. Billy clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Shit…" Bones hissed, running his hands over his desk and fingering the ammunition lying on it. Then he turned his head to the side, glancing at his son with a calculating look. They held eyes for a moment and I didn't breathe. Nothing to disturb the decision hanging in the air.

But clomping boots did the disturbing instead. All eyes went to the long end of the room as two men stomped inside.

"We got trouble." One stated, a gun solidly held in his right palm. Bones shot from his seat and held up a hand.

"Steven, take 'er outside." He barked, eyeing the silent man. In a second, my arm was in a soft vice and Steven was pulling me towards the back door. It wasn't the way we'd come in, so I let him guide me, shielding my eyes in the brighter sun. I barely got to glance back at the new arrivals before I was out of sight, staring into a muddy back alley.

"Who are they?" I muttered the question before I could figure out why. I didn't really want to get involved with their business, but I felt apart of the mess in a twisted way. In the few moments I'd been there, I was deeper than most people got in a lifetime.

"No one ya need ta worry about." Steven answered, locking onto my face with a serious warning glare.

"Sorry." I whispered, rubbing my arms. Standing outside, free of the shelter of darkness, my skin started to buzz. My nervousness had subsided to reveal the screaming need beneath the surface.

"For ya own good." Steven added, flicking a lighter at the tip of a smoke. I watched him take a deep inhale and studied his lips like a thirsty person ogling water. Raising a brow, he stared back. Then he softened with a roll of his eyes, pulling out a second cigarette and holding out to me. It snapped me from my trance and I reached out, careful to extend my clean arm to retrieve the offered smoke.

"Thanks." I murmured, leaning in as he lit it for me. A deep drag produced a lung full of calm. But it did little to quell my stirring insides. It was better than nothing, however, and I was genuinely thankful for the slight kindness. "For savin' me too." I added, avoiding his eyes. I thought back to the alley, to the blur of interference that had saved me, Steven might have been under Bones' orders, but his timing had been crucial. A moment later and the bum could have completed his violation, ruined me yet again.

"Ya never learn ta fight?" He asked, hissing a stream of smoke from his lips. I blinked a few times, wondering why he'd say that. But my actions in the alley seemed strange. Even to myself, now that I thought back. I'd just let it happen. Kicked a little, yes. Begged, sure. But I'd let the bum have his way for the most part. And scraped up my arms in the process. The memory of falling backwards into the street brought my fingers to the tender flesh of my forearms, finding the cuts that littered the surface. He watched me feel them, his eyes lowered to observe.

"I guess not." I finally responded. "Kinda took me by surprise." I tried to rationalize my lack of resistance. But the excuse didn't ring true for either of us and Steven merely shook his head, taking a quiet drag. "I'm not exactly in the best place right now."

"Right." He quipped, shaking his head again and looking off into the alley towards a street. I dropped my arms to my sides. Was I not allowed weakness, even in my darkest hour? He was just like everyone else. Judging me on a moment's notice.

"Whatever." I hissed, trembling slightly as anger rose in my blood. It wasn't even noon and I'd defended myself to a dozen people. Their eyes and words were like hooks in my back, pulling on me and dragging me under. They passed their judgment based on nothing. The only person who knew me enough to treat me that way was dead. Deb knew it all, and now I was alone. My past was nothing more than a story to anyone I'd tell.

Tears blurred my vision and I clicked my way down the wall, away from Steven and his brooding silence. I should just disappear. Leave everyone behind and run away. I could start over. I wouldn't have a past; I could be anyone.

I blinked and wiped my cheeks, feeling a glimmer of hope at the idea. Looking up, I realized I was standing in front of a small, old window. In the office, I'd noticed a few dirty panes of glass that allowed light into the room. On this side, the window looked cleaner, either that or the sun didn't reveal as much of the dirty muck spread on the outside. In the split second it took for me to realize what I was staring through, a shadow moved and a figure appeared.

It wasn't a clear picture, or a close one, but it was enough for me to know what I was staring at. A compound of withdrawal, horror, and disgust washed over my body and I wrenched forward, vomiting onto the ground in a sputtered gag. My limit had been found. Steven scuffled his boots, turning around to face me, and a metal bang of a door echoed in the alley.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Billy hollered in the open, launching himself at me faster than I could have anticipated. Holding up my hands in a vulnerable submission, I whimpered as another wave of nausea hit my gut.

"No—" I managed to aim a second heave away from Billy's hold, avoiding his arms and hands as he grabbed my wrists to yank me forward.

"What the fuck, Billy?" Steven asked, stomping his butt out with a toe and gliding to my side.

"Get 'er in here, goddamn it!" Bones called from inside and I cried. The tears and fear consumed me. Billy dragged me from the alley and I tried to press my heels into the asphalt. It only made a terrible scraping sound as he pulled me inside.

Back in the dark, I was forced to look at it again. I'd seen a lot of things in my lifetime, but nothing could have prepared me for what was displayed on Bones' office floor. On a white sheet, in the middle of the cement, was a body: a man, in his mid-forties, laying flat on his back, a red dot on his forehead and a dribble of blood stemming from the wound. From the alley, I hadn't been able to see his face, but I'd known what I'd seen. There was a dead man on the floor of Bones' shop. Proof of the true danger I was in, the true nature of the men surrounding me. Steven sighed and he rubbed his hand over his jaw.

"Shit." He hissed, watching as Billy dragged me further into the room. His fingers pressed into the soft, sore spots in my elbow and I cried out in a strangled scream. The loudest sound I'd ever made in his presence. It didn't go unnoticed. As he settled me in the middle of the room, Billy pulled my arm from my body and forced it open, revealing the tracks that riddled the joint.

"Son of a bitch." He whispered, glaring into my face. "Fuckin' junkie whore!"

"What?" Bones finally commanded the situation, frowning at the newest outburst and demanding answers with a snarl. Billy forced my elbow further and I whined from the painful extension.

"She's jonesing." With a toss, he whirled me back and pressed something metal and cold to my forehead. Didn't take a genius to know what Billy was doing. I screamed and my knees buckled, the gun pressed to my head making me spineless. "I say we kill 'er now. She's seen too much and she'd do anythin' ta score." I shook my head, watching as Bones mulled the idea over.

"Please no! I won't say a word. I promise. I don't even know who that is." I blubbered nonsense, my face flushed in terror. Billy held me up by my arm, watching his father for an order, gun trained on my temple. The two strangers stood at the desk, observing like uninterested third parties. Like they were witnessing a typical business deal and nothing more.

"The cops need 'er for Deb." Bones finally growled. "If she disappears while I'm supposed ta have 'er, they'll come sniffin'." Billy hissed a disapproving breath, opening his mouth to interject.

"THEN!" Bones cut him off before he had the chance. "When she turns eighteen. She ain't my problem." His eyes traveled from Billy to me and he took a breath, sighing it from nose. "And who knows what'll happen to ya then." I'd be dead. That was clear as crystal. The moment I was no longer a threat to Bones' enterprise, Billy would put me down and bury me. My eyes lingered on the body on the floor. For all I knew, the dead guy would be my grave-mate.

"Til then, she needs watchin'." Bones grumbled, settling back into his chair. "Dustin, get that fuckn' stiff outta here." He added, brushing a hand in direction of the two men. They picked up the corners of the sheet and gathered the ends, lifting him into a hammock-like roll and carrying him from the room. "Steven can take 'er." Suddenly I was jolted, hauled upward to my feet.

"Fuck that." Billy growled. "I'm not lettin' her out of my sight." He didn't seem up for discussion, leaving no room for miscommunication. Bones took his time glaring at the two of us before he shrugged.

"Fine. I'm out one less man." He muttered. "But ya harm a hair on 'er head, and I'm fuckn' comin' for your ass." Billy nodded curtly. "Last thing I need is the cops pinnin' a missin' kid on my case." Everyone seemed to hold still for a moment.

"Get goin'." Bones finally snapped. Without a second of hesitation, Billy dragged me towards the front entrance, back the way we'd come from the cars. Our steps echoed in the halls and I could hear my pulse in my ears. As we wove our way towards the light, Bones called after us.

"She gets loose, your ass is on the line." Billy yanked on my arm and I flinched, flexing the muscle in an attempt to pull back.

"She won't live to tell anybody anything." He growled to me. Maybe it was to me. Or maybe it was to himself. Either way, I felt nothing but hopelessness as we left, busting through the door into the day. At least now I knew something about my future.

It wouldn't be long.

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><p><strong>Hey guys, hope you're still enjoying this. =) I'm just getting warmed up with the plot I have in mind. Let me know if you'd like to see anything specific in the future, I'm open to ideas. Btw, shout out to Dancing-Pinky-Flower! and of course my faithfuls. I love hearing from my readers, makes my day! Love you all. <strong>


	9. Cold turkey

He took me to a dumpy apartment. Not his, that was obvious. In fact, I don't think anyone lived there. It was probably something he'd bullied out of a landlord as payback. Sitting smack dab in the middle of Stokely, I felt myself go numb against the anxiety I'd used to feel. All I could feel was sick. The tang of vomit lingered in my mouth and I could smell my hair and skin. I was detached from it all though, watching the blocks whiz by as Billy drove us into the neighborhood.

What did I have left? Nothing. And at the moment, I felt nothing. My fear had died. My hope had died. Both gone, along with the last person who had loved me. I missed Deb, craved to hear her voice. Pressing my forehead to the window, I let more hot tears roll down my cheeks. The glass was cool and the hum of the tires beneath my seat was soothing. I wanted to blend into the interior, disappear peacefully. I wanted to open my eyes, look over and see Deb behind that wheel. But the sound of moving leather and smell of smoke told me a different story. Without even looking, I could feel Billy beside me: his hands moving over the gear shift, the steering wheel, the whoosh of his breath as he exhaled from his nose.

He whipped the car in a sharp turn and my body hit the door. My eyes fluttered open and I heard Billy glance at me, gauging my reaction. I only shifted and continued to watch, the gray day moving by in smeared streaks.

When he pulled up to a dark, depressing building, I didn't even blink. I'd accepted my lack of choice. And I thought nothing of the place. It was old, practically falling apart. From the look of the exterior, there were probably only a couple of residents. The kind of tenants that wouldn't report screams in the middle of the night.

Billy parked in two spots, crossing the faded lines without a care in the world. He was the king after all, and he was flaunting that. To me. The girl he would hold prisoner until the day he was free to make me disappear. It would be this apartment complex, in three weeks. He'd come for me and my time would be up.

He stood from the car in a swift movement, and I did as expected, opening my door quietly and settling my feet on the pocked asphalt. My heels were painful at this point, digging into my Achilles tendons and throbbing to my toes. Gingerly I stood and followed, hurrying to keep pace with Billy. He didn't even check to see if I was close, he just strode through the lot and into the front door of the building.

The interior was muggy and smelled like mildew. My instinct was to take smaller breaths, hold a hand over my nose. But I was too busy keeping up. He was practically gliding through the halls, his long legs covering the distance four of mine could. I nearly collided into him when he stopped.

"Someone will be here soon." He growled, pulling a set of keys from his jacket. As he unlocked the door, I nodded and hugged my arms. The nausea bubbled in my stomach again and I swallowed, praying for it to pass. The need was ever present, making my skin damp and the hairs on my arms stand on end. It was pulling me apart, tearing me down as I attempted to remain quiet and unnoticeable. Billy finally looked my way as I placed a palm over my throat. His detachment was tangible, watching me like I was a picture on a wall.

"Ya try ta run, I'll make your life hell." I stepped into the open door and Billy made no move to follow. He stood in the hall, arms crossed in a defiant stance. There was nothing said about food, clothes, anything. Not that I expected hospitality at this point. "Don't make me go lookin' for ya." He added a second warning and a shiver shot up my back, ending in my throat. I swallowed, fighting off the vomit I knew would rise. Thankfully, that was all Billy had to say. He grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door in a flash, closing me inside, locking me away.

That's when I ran. I stumbled through the large, empty living space and weaved my way through a short hall. Banging on the doors with my palms, I searched for the bathroom, my throat burning with bile. The withdrawal had started and I was alone. When I found the tiny closet of a bathroom, I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, and I allowed myself to cry aloud as my body heaved with agony.

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><p>All my life, I've found comfort in the shower. As a kid, it was a place to hide and cleanse the physical destruction of my life. As I aged, it was just warm, comforting. It soothed my aches and it dulled my pains. And even though the tiny shower in my new prison was a pathetic stall, barely allowing me to raise my elbows, I never wanted to leave. I cried, pressed to the wall, the water beating my back in light pecks. When I was out of tears, I just coughed sobs. Even though I stayed until my fingers were painfully wrinkled from the water, I found no comfort in that shower. I was lost. Abandoned. Alone.<p>

Well…at least I thought I was.

The thud of wood smashing broke me from my quiet lament and I nearly cracked my head on the tile. Standing quickly, I heard the door meet the wall and a figure appeared in the fogged plastic window of the shower. I shrieked.

"GET OUT!" I wrapped my arms around my breasts, worming into a corner as the door was ripped open. Standing there, staring unchecked at my bare body, was Billy's black friend. My face heated with anger and I let it go, protecting myself the only way I saw possible.

"ARE YOU FUCKIN' DEAF?" I yelled. His eyes found mine and he sniffed, as if debating whether or not I was worth a reply. Then he leaned back on the sink, crossing his arms.

"I ain't lettin' ya out of my sight." He growled. I motioned with a hand and let out a wheezy sigh. New tears sprung to my eyes.

"I'm just showerin'." He shrugged.

"I can see that." Again, he scanned me with greedy eyes, his gaze lingering the longest between my legs. The frustration mounted exponentially, as if a dam had been broken.

"WELL IM NOT PLANNIN ON PUTTING ON A SHOW." With a swift tug, I slammed the door closed. To my surprise, I heard a small laugh. It only made me angrier. "YOU CAN GET A STIFFY ON YOUR SIDE OF THE LOOKIN GLASS."

"Ya aint that hot, bitch." My mind was blind, raving like a lose animal. And I charged through the door without thinking. The water sprayed everywhere as I raised my fists. But he caught me with little effort. We only struggled for a second before he forced me to the toilet on my ass. Then his palm met my cheek in a harsh slap.

"JESUS!" He bellowed. But the fight was over. The rage was gone and I wailed, crying hysterically as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "Fuckin' crazy." He watched me and sighed a few times before he gripped my jaw in his hand and examined my face. When I looked up at him, he looked almost sorry as his eyes danced over my cheek. Then he released me, backing out of the bathroom.

"Get dressed. I'll be outside."

* * *

><p>It took a while. My body was failing me, and fast. Nausea was combining with weakness. My back and legs were shaking as if I'd been bedridden for months, making it hard to move in the cramped space. But I managed to replace my tank and skirt, leaving my undergarments. It allowed me to breathe beneath the fabric.<p>

When I emerged, he wasn't standing in the hall. It was almost disappointing. I'd wanted to keep him waiting. But a few steps towards the main room revealed he hadn't traveled far. There was a mattress in the middle of the floor. It hadn't been there upon my arrival, so I assumed he'd retrieved it from elsewhere in the building. Along with the mattress there was a flimsy card table and a couple of lawn chairs. Simple furniture for a quick move in. He was sitting in one of the chairs, smoking as he stared in my direction.

"How long ya been off?" He suddenly barked. I froze and frowned, unable to comprehend the question at any reasonable speed. Rolling his eyes, he rephrased. "When was your last fix?" I swallowed, counting the days slowly in my head. It dawned on me that only twenty-four hours ago, my mother had been alive and well.

"Two days." I muttered, subconsciously rubbing a hand over my elbow. He nodded and eyed me, then lurched from the chair taking a drag.

"Bag is bringin' some shit later." I frowned deeper in confusion. They were going to get me high?

"Why?" It was a reasonable question. It felt like a trap, either that or a lie.

"Gotta keep ya straight til the pigs are done wit ya." He answered with a shrug. "Can't have ya jonesin' in front of 'em." I was a liability and heroin was my babysitter. They were going to pump me up to keep me in line then drop me in a ditch. It was pathetic. I was going to leave this world with fresh tracks in my arm. And suddenly, I couldn't accept that.

"No." I whispered, hugging myself for support. He stopped sucking on a cigarette in mid-drag.

"What?" I shook my head, sniffing in an attempt to maintain my backbone.

"I'm done with that." He hissed smoke with a snarl and point at me.

"Like fuck ya are." In a long stride he flew at me and I cringed. "You're gonna fuckin' do what I fuckin' tell ya!"

"Not that." I whimpered, crying as he towered over me.

"Listen ta me, bitch! If I gotta stick the needle in ya arm myself, I'll fuckin' do it!" I reached deep inside myself and held onto the image of my body in a ditch. If I was meeting my maker, I was doing it with both eyes open.

"You'll have ta kill me." I whispered. That wasn't what he expected and his brows rose in surprise. Bending down to my level, he glared into my eyes.

"What?" He hissed. I swallowed, wetting my throat.

"Ya make me use, I'll make ya kill me." He didn't respond for a long time. We didn't break eye contact and I could see him thinking. His orders were easy to guess. Keep me contained and keep me unmarked. I was on loan until the cops were done with me, then it was fair game until my birthday. If I put up enough of a fight, my babysitter would be forced into action, violating his orders one way or the other. When he bared his teeth and snarled, I knew he'd made a decision.

"Fine. Get sick ya dumb bitch." Then he raised a finger, jutting it threateningly in my face. "But when you're pukin' and crappin' all over yourself, you'll wish you were dead."

And I knew it. One of the biggest reasons I'd kept myself fixed all this time, after the initial love of the high, was to escape the sickness. I'd seen the desperate junkies, huddled in the alleys when they had no money to feed their needs. I knew it could kill me. But I was willing to trade one death for another. When you've lost it all, the smallest decisions mean everything. And I wanted this, to leave life with some sort of lesson.

My eyes must have conveyed my determination, because his widened slightly. Maybe he was impressed with my stubbornness. Or maybe he was afraid of watching what was in store for me. Killing me with a bullet was quick and painless. But my misery would take days to end.

"Fine." He backed away, crossing the room to the table, on top of which sat a large brown bag. Rolling back the top, he dug into the sack, withdrawing his arm with his back facing me. Then he turned and tossed a white bundle to the mattress. A burger. My stomach wiggled with hunger and exhaustion. I hadn't eaten in days and I'd thrown up until I heaved dry, but my body was starving. It wanted that greasy burger just as badly as it wanted a fix.

"Eat that while ya still can." He muttered, sitting as he unwrapped a similar sandwich. Unlike Billy, he'd probably realized how thin I was, how dangerous it was to ignore that fact. If they wanted to deliver more than a corpse to the cops, someone would have to feed me. But it didn't matter much now. Any food would be in the toilet before long.

I sank to the old mattress and grabbed the burger with shaking fingers, fumbling with the crinkled paper. And I devoured it like a wild animal. His eyes were on me the whole time, I could practically feel his gaze burning my skin, but I didn't slow for a moment. Not until a painful weight was setting in my stomach and the wrapper was a wad in my hand. Then I gently placed it on the floor and hugged my legs to my chest.

Day two was almost over. As the sun drifted away, darkening the cloudy haze above into evening, I prepared myself for the biggest nightmare of my life.

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><p><strong>These might be short, but that allows me to churn them out faster. ;) Thanks for reading! Love to Dancing-Pinky-Flower and my silent faithfuls. Expect another chapter soon. Already started. =)<strong>


	10. Alive

**I apologize for the delay. I wrote a version of this chapter, then ended up hating it. But I didn't know why. Came back to it with fresh eyes and now it's up! =) Hope you enjoy. **

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><p>I don't know how to explain what happened next, because everything unraveled so quickly. My memories consist of delirious consciousness, sweaty writhing on that dirty mattress. If I could forget everything, I would. But what little I can recall will haunt me for the rest of my days. Some dreams, some memories.<p>

The clearest recollection I have started with a white room.

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><p>"MOM!" I was screaming. I screamed until the walls of my throat burned. And then she was there, holding my hands, pressing her lips to my forehead. Her ashy blonde hair, and dark brown eyes, gazing down at me.<p>

"Harley. Wake up honey." My vision was blurry from crying. I wasn't weeping, but tears would stream from my eyes and I'd stare through the watery haze.

"Mom?" She brushed my sweaty hair from my face, running her thumbs over my clammy cheeks.

"I'm here. It's alright." I reached up and grabbed her arms, clawed at the material. She was real. She was alive.

"How…" Deb cupped my jaw and cooed me into silence.

"Don't be afraid, baby."

"**She's gonna fuckin' die."**

The voice was loud, thundering through my ears. I winced, but Deb didn't move. She just rubbed my cheeks with her thumbs, gazing down at me.

"Don't give up, Harley." I frowned. Nothing made sense. She was alive, but why didn't she look happy? Then suddenly Deb grabbed my arm, wrenching it from my body. "Don't let them."

"Mom?" She squeezed my bicep until it was painful. Her fingers dug so deep. "Stop." I softly protested, confused at her actions. What was she doing?

"**Hold her still." **

"Harley!" Her face was firm, serious. And she smacked my elbow, sending bolts of pain throughout my body. I cried out and yanked.

"STOP!"

"Fight baby." She gripped my arm and pressed my head back, pinning me until I couldn't see.

"Mom, please!" The tears were flowing in a constant stream, the salt stinging my eyes.

"**Come 'ere." **

"Harley, you have to try!" She was crying. I could hear her, just like all the other times. Her pleads from the past two years, echoing and building. I couldn't fail her again.

"NO!" I shredded my poor throat to pieces. Thrashing, I fought her.

Suddenly, the room was darker. The walls were grey and sad. Shadows loomed over my eyes and I blinked at them. Deb was gone, replaced by darkness. I was screaming in wet sobs; a large palm gripped my arm and the familiar rubber noose was strangling my arm. _No. _They were shooting me up. With all the focus I could muster, I rolled, searching for an escape. Rough hands were on my arms and I kicked weakly, crying through the fire in my voice.

Then I was spent. One moment I was fighting and the next I felt the room slipping as I lost my momentum with each passing heartbeat.

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><p>It could have been a dream. It could have been real. I didn't know which. I dreamt of being carried into the ocean. I dreamt about being held by my mother. I dreamt about my bed and my crappy room with the creaky floor. I dreamt about Billy beating me with his bare hands. I dreamt about fire consuming my arms, making its way down to my toes. But those things were easy to write off as lies, because when my eyes finally did open, I was still on that mattress, staring at the wall.<p>

And it was quiet.

I tried to roll over but my body cried out in protest. I pushed on the surface beneath me and groaned as I finally rotated to face the other side of the room. It was empty. The chairs were abandoned; on the card table there was an ashtray, several butts stuck inside. Taking a long inhale, I let my lungs fill with the quiet, the calm. Then I noticed my skin was warm, dry. I glanced down at my chest. A plain, oversized undershirt covered my body, ending at my knees. Someone had washed me. I opened my mouth and it was paper dry.

"Hello?" I managed to rasp. A whoosh of water erupted from the next room, a toilet flushing abruptly at my call. Heavy footsteps sped my heart until the familiar black man appeared from the hall.

"Bout time." He said softly, crouching down at the edge of the mattress. His face no longer looked hateful like before. It was different; something had changed. Cautiously, I spoke again.

"Was I asleep?" I felt groggy like after a long nap, but it was worse than that. It was similar to being blackout drunk. You have faint impressions of events, but you can't remember what happened. He shrugged.

"Off and on. First time you haven't woken up cryin'." I cringed at the thought.

"How long was I like that?" I'd heard of withdrawal, but never expected the deliriousness. I couldn't even remember what happened before it had gotten bad. Those memories were wiped away.

"Three days." He said quietly. Then he stood and picked up a water bottle from the table. A straw was already in it and half the water was gone. "Don't know if ya can call it sleepin', though." My head pounded as he crouched, holding the water out in a lazy gesture. As I lifted my arm to take it, I noticed my elbow. With shaking fingers, I pressed into the soft skin there, feeling the long faded marks.

"Wait…" I whispered. Then I met his eyes. He shrugged slightly and shook his head.

"Stronger than I thought." I stared at him and he nodded to the bottle in his hand. Dazed, I took it and sucked softly on the tip of the straw while he returned to a chair. When I'd swallowed a significant amount, I stopped and forced myself into a seated position.

"You didn't give me the heroin?" He took a drag from the cigarette that had been waiting for him in the ashtray.

"Nope." My breath rushed from my lips. I'd survived on my own. "Came close. Ya stopped movin' a coupla times." I ran my hands over my thighs. The apartment was warmer than I remembered and there was a thin sheet spread beneath me on the mattress.

"Thanks." I whispered. He stared then shrugged, his own of way of accepting my gratitude.

"How do ya feel?" I took a moment. My head felt heavy, like my skull was laced with iron, and my stomach churned with each passing minute. But other than that, the need was nothing more than a faint itch in the back of my mind. It no longer flooded my body with each pulse but instead tickled sporadically with momentary discomfort.

"Better." I murmured.

"You gonna hold it together surrounded by cops?" In reality, I knew that I had to, regardless of whether or not I thought I could. I was a new loose end in the Darley family; I had to keep quiet and maintain their secrecy. It didn't matter in the long term, but to ensure my immediate survival, I had to protect the very men who despised me.

"Yeah." My nod was sincere. I may not physically be strong, but the knowledge that I'd beaten withdrawal made me feel strong. For the first time in my life, I had been forced to show my conviction. There wasn't any hiding anymore. I couldn't lose myself in partying and drugs, I had to face my life.

"Yeah, ya better." He muttered. A dull roar grew outside and I felt the hair rise on my skin. Not in fear, but familiarity. It was a greeting all its own. He heard it too, looking out the window with a calm exhale. "I'm not the one ya need ta convince." He added. I nodded and swallowed, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Billy was my ultimate judge. When his heavy footsteps sounded down the hall, my guard stood facing the door, eerily at the ready.

The door opened silently and quickly, blocking him one moment and revealing him the next. His shoulders were relaxed, wide at his sides, and his arms hung loose. But the shocking thing was his face. His eyes were hard as steel, but he looked exhausted. The skintight black t-shirt on his frame made him look narrow, his hips slender under the waist of his jeans. His black tattoos wove like ribbons over his forearms and neck, dark against his creamy skin. It directly echoed the memory I had of our father. Bones was a little taller, and had always been larger in build, but Billy was his replica, his blood. And it amazed me a little more each time.

A second man walked in behind him, and my stomach warmed, my cheeks burned. Steven stepped with Billy and both focused on me, plopped in the middle of a dumpy mattress in nothing but an undershirt. My brother studied me like I was a puzzle.

"Ya lived." His words sounded almost disappointed. But his eyes flicked over to his friend. "Fuckin' lucky." He wasn't just irritated with me, it seemed, but with his man as well. Perhaps my condition had been worse than I'd thought. Before I could gather more from his expression, he was glaring at me again. "You'll see the cops tomorrow. Then you're not my problem anymore." I only nodded in response. In comparison to our earlier conversations, this one nearly felt friendly. His tone wasn't laced with malice, but bare truth. While his words suggested his indifference to my existence, he wasn't threatening me.

"Let's go, Bodie." He finally muttered, motioning for his friend with a flick of his finger. Bodie obeyed and started into the hall as Billy glanced at me one more time. Then he turned to Steven. "Get 'er cleaned up and get the police shit done." With a sniff, Steven squared his shoulders.

"I got my orders already…and they ain't from you." There was suddenly a very real and very thick silence. Billy's brow fell flat and he stepped closer, his face drifting threateningly close to Steven's.

"Get it done." He growled. Before Steven could respond, Billy stepped into the hall and slammed the door behind him.

"Fuckin' dick." Steven hissed, glaring at the door. My eyes widened and a grin curled the corners of my lips. Then he turned and his gaze scanned me from head to toe. "Christ. Ya look like hell." I might have, but he sure didn't. Unlike Billy and his crew, Steven wore a workingman's clothes. His jeans were worn and shredded at the knees, his tan skin peeking through the denim. On top, he wore a white, dirty t-shirt, smeared with dark oil and various shades of paint. The material was tight around his shoulders and pecks, but hung loose around his stomach. It was the first time I got a good long look at him. He had blond hair. I'd thought it was brown, but golden sections gleamed from his roots and it looked lighter than I remembered. Against his healthy tan, he looked like he could be a surfer. His hands were dark, fingers stained nearly black, looped in his jeans while he stood in the doorway. Maybe he really was a mechanic after all.

"Hey." He suddenly spoke, ducking his head to look directly into my face. "You hear me?" I blinked and nodded my head slowly.

"Sorry." Dropping his hands, he walked across the room and settled into one of the two chairs. Weaving his fingers together, he leant forward and hung them between his knees.

"Bones wasn't happy when he found out 'bout the sudden detox." I could only imagine. But, judging by the state of the men, alive, he must have moved on. "Wants this taken care of the minute you can walk outta here." I nodded.

"I can do it." He raised an eyebrow.

"You sound sure of that." I hugged my bare legs to my chest.

"I am." Steven studied me and then shrugged, leaning back into his chair.

"Alright then." Clapping his hands the plastic armrests, he stood up quickly. "I gotta go buy some shit." He stated. Then his eyes wandered down my figure, taking in my extreme state of undress as if for the first time. "Clothes being one." Then walked to the edge of the mattress, towering above me. "And you gotta get cleaned up. Start movin' around." I nodded. If I'd really spent three days on a mattress, I'd be pretty weak.

His hands were suddenly on arms, pulling me up without warning. Immediately my legs gave out and he moved to brace my weight. Against his solid frame, I felt as light as a feather. When I could hold myself upright, he let go. Steven watched me hover in place for a moment, then started for the door.

"I'll be back soon." He said quietly, watching as I settled into my body. I was whole, but shaky. Giving him a small nod, I acknowledged the statement and he slipped out the door. Unlike Billy, Steven trusted me alone. Although, I was in no condition to run.

Taking small steps, I made my way to the bathroom. Someone had placed a lone bar of soap on the counter, along with a wadded up towel. It was hardly shower material, but it would do. Flicking on the light, I was greeted with a dim yellow glow. It cast a sickly color all over the room; and it didn't do my complexion any favors in the mirror.

My eyes were surrounded in shadow and my cheeks looked hollow. The sharp shape of my nose accented my gaunt face and I pressed my fingers into the pale flesh of my lips. Framed by my stringy, dry hair, I looked dead. But I wasn't; I was alive.

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><p><strong>I'll try to be better about this next chapter. Love to Dancing-Pinky-Flower and my faithfuls. =)<strong>


	11. Burned

**Love to xoShortee93** **and Dancing-Pinky-Flower, and the silent faithfuls. Thanks so much for reading. =) Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>This didn't turn around on a dime. Nothing ever really works that way. With people, it takes time to earn their trust, respect, or even empathy. Steven was the first one to treat me like a human being. I adored him for that. Maybe he felt bad because I was so pathetic. Or maybe he was just a better person. It didn't really matter; all that mattered was that he cared. And he would be the one that started it all.<p>

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><p>I was terrified. It wasn't reasonable, but it was true.<p>

"Ya gonna get out?" Steven asked with a raised eyebrow. I swallowed and took a deep breath.

"I'm scared." I whispered. He shifted in his seat and suddenly the truck was silent. Glancing over at him, I fiddled with my hands in my lap. By all accounts, I should have felt good. The clothes on my body were clean, warm, and new. Steven was a decent shopper for a man. He'd picked simple, formfitting jeans, a black jacket, and a few t-shirts in neutral colors. But my favorite had been the shoes. I would have never bought them for myself. But the second I'd put them on my feet, I'd loved them. Black hiking boots. Sturdy and heavy, I clomped around with a new weight in my step. They made it feel like kicking in a door would take no effort at all. Walking around in the apartment, I'd felt prepared. Sitting in front of the police station, that feeling had vanished.

"What's to be scared of?" Steven muttered. "It's a building of fat idiots who munch donuts for a living." A small grin whispered over my lips.

"Not them." I answered. Before he could respond, I opened the door and stepped out. It was midmorning and the Boston sky was grey from above. Zipping my hooded jacket, I took a step towards the brick building. It was her face that haunted me; a charred shell would replace the last memory I had of Deb.

"Hey." I whirled. He'd rolled down the window, leaning over to call to me from the driver's side. "Don't let 'em see ya flinch." With a nod, I turned and continued inside. Variations of the saying were common on the rougher sides of town. I'd never truly understood it until I'd lived surrounded by the toughest men in Boston. They feared things, just like I did. But they never revealed it. They'd walk headfirst into their worst nightmare without blinking an eye.

Each stair brought my pulse higher into my throat. I was still shaky. But, considering it was almost twenty-four hours after I'd woken up on a ratty mattress, I was doing far better. Steven had taken me out to eat a few times, watching me with wide eyes as I devoured food like it was air. And I'd showered twice since waking up, scrubbing every inch of my skin until it rang. Not that I needed it that badly. Someone had taken care of me, but I didn't want to ask whom. No one would admit to being that considerate anyway, not voluntarily.

The second I pushed open the front door, eyes fell on me. There wasn't a single look of interest. And it made me soar. The last time I'd been in the building, I'd been a mess, tottering around in heels. Now, I could probably pass as my own twin. My stronger, healthier, yet tired twin. The receptionist actually smiled at me when I approached.

"Can I help you?" I swallowed and to my surprise, my thoughts went to my brother. Billy. My back straightened as I leaned against the counter.

"I was called in to see Detective Peterson." She nodded and pulled out clipboard.

"Just put down your name and I'll page him." While I scribbled on the long list, she plucked a phone from the cradle, tucking it between her shoulder and ear. Her eyes weren't judgmental as she read my name over the line. She even nodded in thanks when I handed the list over. My confidence grew and my feet squared to match the width of my shoulders. As I stood uselessly at the desk, I pretended he was watching me. Billy Darley. I acted like I was being scrutinized. In a sick way, I wanted to do him proud. But was I doing it to feel stronger? Or was I hoping I could buy my life with an excellent performance? Maybe if I could trick a nest of cops into thinking I was fine, I could convince Billy I wasn't a threat. That I wouldn't be a threat, despite what I'd seen.

"He'll be right out." Her words snapped me from my internal debate and I nodded quickly, taking a seat. Less than a week ago, I'd been in the same spot, wishing Deb would burst through the front doors and throw her arms around me. Shit, I would have even settled for Tim and my mother. Just as long as she was alive. But now, I was afraid of seeing Deb, or what remained of her.

He was talking to another officer when he rounded the corner into the lobby. And he scanned the seats for me halfheartedly. But he was paying attention when he found me. His slacked jaw said more than words. I wanted to smile at him, yet I somehow managed to refrain from doing so.

"Ms. Darley?" He called. I stood swiftly and walked up to him, crossing my arms to refuse his hurriedly outstretched hand.

"Todd." I stated firmly. Peterson blinked at me and his jaw circled with a chomp on his gum. Then he stopped staring like I was a ghost and nodded.

"That's right, I'm sorry. Ms. Todd." I offered a sarcastic, close-lipped smile and waited. His smug demeanor wouldn't be forgotten. It'd be held against him until the moment I walked out of the station. Judging by his expression, he was too shocked to care. Apparently I was expected to return in the same state I'd left in. My chest warmed with pride. I very well could have. If I'd let it, I could have been high right up until this very moment, feeble and starving. But I'd shocked everyone. Even porky.

"This way." He finally directed me back into a hallway, into his office. I remembered it, taking a seat and crossing my legs. Somehow he must have communicated who I was to every stinking pig in the building. Because, as he blabbed uselessly, heads started to poke into his little room, various people interrupting only to quickly apologize and catch a glance. Either that, or he was the most popular man in the whole station.

I doubted that.

"Alrighty miss, I just need ya to sign a few papers for me." A frown dug into my forehead.

"I thought I was identifying—" He raised a hand, waving me off as he shrugged.

"Their remains were too badly burned. We used dental records to get a positive ID." I choked.

"My mother?" He flipped a few pages in a folder and chewed before glancing up into my face.

"Yup." Then he frowned in confusion. "Someone called, didn't they?" I swallowed back a cry of frustration. Billy. They'd identified my mother and yet he'd neglected to tell me. But I forced a weary nod.

"Yeah. I forgot." Then I uncrossed my legs and settled back in the chair. "Tim isn't my problem." I grunted. Peterson raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his paper work.

"Timothy Fowler? He didn't live with you?" I ground my back teeth and shrugged.

"He did, but I don't care. Someone else can take care of that asshole." I hissed the words with hatred, squinting my eyes to darken my glare. Peterson just looked at me then sighed.

"He have any family in the area?" I shrugged. I was done thinking about Tim. He was dead. Thank Jesus. For a solid minute, Peterson stared at me like he wanted more but he got nothing. It took a graying man with a large nose, peeking in to ask porky a question, for him to give up on the Tim matter. At that point, he took a few papers from a folder and pushed them across the desk towards me.

"This just acknowledges that you, her daughter, have been informed of your mother's cause of death." My hand hovered over the line and my heart sped.

"Shouldn't someone older be signing this?" I whispered. Peterson snorted and sat back in his chair.

"Honey, your all she's got." With a small nod, I scribbled my name over the line. Harley Todd. Last living relative of Debra Todd. She'd had no one before me. Was my fate the same? When I was done, he whisked away the form and slid another one towards me.

"This releases her body to Schmitt's funeral home, as you have arranged." My throat closed.

"What?" I sat forward, yanking the paper up to my face. Peterson stared at me while I read.

"Your mother's funeral arrangements were made there, correct?" I glanced over the paper. According to the words glaring back up at me, my mother was to be cremated. Paid for, done. I swallowed and gently placed the paper on the desk. What else did Billy leave out?

"Yeah. Sounds right." I murmured. Then I wrote my name slowly on the line. As I set the pen down on the desk, he grabbed the second form and slid it in his file.

"And that wraps it up." He said with a sigh. "Thank you for coming in, Ms. Todd. Again, we're sorry for your loss." I nodded and rose. Turning and leaving the office without a word, I left him standing there, hand hovering abandoned in the air.

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><p>"That son of a bitch." Tears of anger were clouding my eyes as I tore open the passenger door of Steven's truck and jumped in. He looked startled for only a second, then relaxed as I covered my face. "THAT SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled into my palms, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I'd made it two days without crying yet here I was, bawling yet again. But I wasn't sad, I was furious.<p>

"Woah!" Steven was frowning as I convulsed. "What's your deal?"

"Fuckin' Billy Darley!" I cried, slamming a fist into the dash. My anger was bound to get me in trouble, but I was flooded with fury and I didn't care. "I HATE HIM!" I screamed.

"HEY!" Steven grabbed my shoulders, leaning in his seat to get a hold on me. "STOP." I gasped for air, sobbing between each desperate breath. And slowly I calmed. "Holy shit." He whispered. "What happened in there?" I took a moment to collect a coherent thought through all the screaming in my head.

"They had called and said they'd ID'd Deb. Billy knew she was dead days ago." I swallowed the thick saliva in my mouth. "And then he fuckin' told 'em to burn her." Steven shook his head.

"No. That was Bones." My head shot around to look at him.

"What?" He leant back in his seat.

"Bones arranged that stuff, went and delivered the cash myself." Dropping my head back against the seat, I stared at the ceiling. "And as for your mom, I thought that was a done deal to begin with." I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. He was right. It had been. But why did it hurt so bad?

"I just thought—"

"Yeah, well don't go yellin' shit about Billy until ya know the facts." Steven ordered. "That shit will sign your sentence faster than…" He shook his head then started the car. "Just don't give him another reason to put a bullet in your skull." I didn't respond. How do you respond to that?

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><p>At some point, I realized we weren't headed to the apartment. But I didn't care all that much. I was angry enough that I wasn't afraid of anyone. Which was a good thing, because Steven took me to Bones.<p>

The shop was busier than the last time I'd been there. Men were working both outside and inside the garage. We parked inside the fence and started into the shadowy building. Some of the mechanics called to Steven as we passed and judging by their glances at me, it wasn't common knowledge who I was. Some of them were perplexed, pausing just long enough to stare as I appeared and disappeared. But it couldn't be hard to guess who I was related to.

Bones was sitting at his desk when we stepped into the room. He glanced up and his brows rose as he studied me. It wasn't a look of shock, but of observation. Then he looked back down at the paper in his hands.

"Cop thing taken care of?" He asked. I nodded but Steven spoke.

"Everything's signed." Bones turned the page and glance up yet again.

"Good." Then I blurted while I still had the chance.

"You're havin' her cremated?" Steven went rigid but I held my ground. I was still plenty ticked and I wanted answers. Bones stared at me, slowly folding his paper. Then he flopped it to the desk, raising his hand to wave towards Steven. It took me a second to realize Bones was dismissing him. I would be alone with my father for the first time. Steven slowly left and I could feel his eyes on me as he slipped from the room. When we were alone, Bones wove his fingers together and leant on his desk.

"There somethin' ya wanna say?" I inhaled through my nose as he growled at me. _Don't give him another reason to put a bullet in your skull._

"I got surprised at the station." I whispered meekly. He sighed and relaxed. His expression almost shocked me. He looked…tired.

"I took care of it." Then he pushed away from his desk, rising to circle it towards me. "I owed Deb that much." I nodded and new tears sprang to my eyes. My mother was dead. Soon, she'd be nothing more than ashes.

"What?" He said abruptly, quietly frustrated with my sadness. It must be foreign to him, seeing someone sad. So I was honest.

"I miss her." As I spoke the words, more tears flowed from my eyes. Twice in one day. I was back to my old pathetic habit. Bones just watched me for a moment and I struggled to keep quiet. I needed a good sob. At that point, there was no denying it. I'd been too quick to the punch, thinking I was ready to face the reality of my life. It hadn't been long since I'd lost her and, unfortunately, I wasn't made of stone like the rest of my family.

"Was she happy?" His question caught me off guard. I smeared my face, trying to clear away the salty trails on my cheeks. Sniffling, I frowned in confusion.

"What?" Bones looked like he'd been reading a grocery list, like he hadn't said anything interesting whatsoever.

"Deb." I stared at him, thinking. I'd never asked myself that. And suddenly my selfishness was bitter in my mouth. What had she felt? When I was running away, getting high and disappearing for days, what did Deb feel? I choked on more tears, remembering her face when she'd watch me move through the apartment. Was she happy?

"No." I whispered. It brought a tremor through my stomach. "I don't think she was." Bones studied my eyes and I saw a flash of something in his. Then he stood off the desk and moved back around to his chair.

"Billy said it was your idea ta quit shootin' up." I nodded quietly, wiping my cheeks. "That's good." He said gruffly, plopping into his seat. "Woulda had ta killed ya no doubt if ya had stayed on it." I swallowed. Wow.

"I didn't do it for you." Bones raised an eyebrow and snorted. It was possibly the bravest thing I'd ever said in front of him.

"Definitely Deb's kid." He was smirking when he said it, but there was a hint of sincere recollection in his voice. I wanted to hear more. There was something hidden away inside of his gruff exterior, something that had brought him and Deb together all those years ago.

"Joey's on his way." Bones grunted. "You're with the boys until your birthday." I inhaled slowly, trying my best to keep my pulse under control. At least it wasn't Billy coming to take me away. "After that, anything goes, Harley." He mumbled. When he said my name, I felt a shiver erupt down my limbs. It was the first time I'd ever heard him say it.


	12. Joey and the truth

**Love to xoShortee93, Dancing-Pinky-Flower, my faithfuls, and all you silent folks. =)**

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><p>I waited outside, mostly because Bones had dismissed me with a stare. My father wasn't the cuddliest man, and he didn't like me lingering longer than he needed me. The lot was filled with cars, many in disarray, and I wandered through them, running my fingers over the cold metal. I had a lot on my mind and it was easy to let my thoughts drift in the space. Only the hissing of occasional blowtorch or squeal of a drill broke the morning's quiet. It was oddly peaceful.<p>

After the display of emotion inside, I was sort of numb. I'd cried more in the past week than I had in a year. I was exhausted through and through. Walking through that lot, I thought about the next two weeks. What would I do until then? I had no money, no real home, and nothing to call my own. I'd not only lost my mother, I'd lost my entire existence. Suddenly, I realized how easy it was for me to simply vanish off the face of the earth. Regardless of what I'd seen, Billy had the opportunity to get rid of me for good; he would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

I still wasn't even sure of what I'd seen.

"Want a ride?" It's fair to say I was startled by the voice that had manifested out of nowhere. Spinning on my heel, I faced the stranger. He was tall and had a mop of dark, curly hair. With a smirk, he studied my surprised expression and held his hands out in a calming gesture. "Woah hey, I won't hurt ya." His voice was familiar, and it took me a moment to place his face. The scruffy, facial hair and the brown eyes were from my first day at the shop. My breath stuttered a little; he was one of the men who'd brought in the body.

"You sneaked up on me." I murmured, releasing the pent up air in a half-hearted show of relaxation. But all of my senses were on alert. This man had looked at me like I wasn't worth a bullet; ironically, at the same moment my brother had put a gun to my head. Now he was smiling like we were old friends. That made him more suspicious than anything. I didn't have friends here.

"Sorry. I'll scuff my shoes more next time." He said with a grin. Next time. The more he talked, the more uncomfortable I became. His words were fine; it was his tone, the way he looked at me, that put me further into my shell. In hindsight, it was probably an instinct I'd developed from my mother's boyfriends. I could sense their intentions like I could smell their stink. "Ya need a ride?" He asked again, putting his hands in his pockets by the thumbs.

"No. I'm good. Thanks." I said quickly, turning to strut towards the street. For some reason, I'd wandered deeper into Bones' lot than I'd realized, and I wasn't in view of the fence. The sound of his boots on the gravel forced my eyes closed. He was following me.

"Ya know, ya clean up nice." I slapped a fake smile on my closed lips and turned my head.

"Thanks." That could have only been a lie. I'd been crying since I'd left the police station, so my face was a puffy red mess. Not only that, my boots were muddy, my body was feeble, and my hair needed a good brushing. My body started to shake as I walked away and he sped up, his steps crunching fast on the ground. Then he appeared beside me.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" I shrugged away as I moved quicker. He was like a hungry dog, unable to merely give up and walk away.

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Ya workin' for the big guy now?" I smashed my eyes closed and clenched my teeth. So there it was; he thought I was one of the girls my father called to the shop. For what, I didn't even let myself think about it. I'd never be able to eat again.

"No." I said solidly, rushing around the hood of an old Chrysler.

"To your credit, he picks pretty ones." His voice was getting slicker, like it was oil oozing from his mouth.

"I'm not a whore." I muttered. Suddenly, he was standing in front of me, blocking my path.

"Then who the fuck are ya?" The cheerful tone was gone, the playful banter vanished; it was only a growling impatient hiss.

"Leave me alone." I dodged him with a quick lunge and he tried to grab my shoulder. His grip caught me off balance and I stumbled, ramming into something warm and soft.

"What the—" Steven's voice sent a shudder of relief through my body and I instinctively grabbed onto anything I could. I'd fallen face first into his chest, so I ended up with a handful of his shirt and a death grip on his elbow. He saw the look on my face and went silent.

"When'd ya get back, Steve?" The man changed his tone again, calm and chummy. Steven took a step back and pretended like I wasn't clinging to him, and from the angle, only he could see the expression of panic I wore.

"Just now." He answered. Then he addressed me, tilting his head to look down into my eyes.

"Joey just pulled up front." I nodded and he patted one of my shoulders. As he touched me, the iron grip of my fingers released and my arms lowered slowly to my sides.

"Thanks." I moved around him in a step, walking briskly to the fence. But before I was out of earshot, I heard the man call out to me.

"See ya, baby." I was practically running when I reached Joey's car. I had to always remember: I was a fish in a pool of sharks.

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><p>The ride wasn't memorable. It was mostly just a few minutes of my heart, slamming in my chest. I was shaking, cold, and tired. It was barely noon, and I just wanted to sleep, regardless of where.<p>

Joey didn't even look at me for the majority of the ride, bobbing his head a muffled tune on the radio. He was carefree that way, totally unafraid of being himself. There wasn't a need to be brooding and scary. Joey was just Joey. The whole the drive was that way, the two of us taking up space and saying nothing. He played with the radio stations and would cuss when all he could find was commercials, but otherwise it was quiet.

I wasn't shocked when we pulled up to the same old apartment complex. Under Billy's command, I was to be as far from Billy as possible. So, I stayed on the very edge of the gang's territory, in a condemnable, probably hazardous, dump. But, at that moment, I was glad to see it.

I was shocked, however, when Joey got out of the car. He followed me up into the building and into the apartment like we did this everyday; then he made himself comfortable in one of the lawn chairs. The place hadn't changed much since the day I'd first arrived, but it had improved a little. The mattress had a sheet and an old quilt on it. That had been one of the various things Steven had reappeared with after he'd left for supplies. I was sure it wasn't brand new, but I hadn't made a comment to him about it. He was one of the people who thought of things that way, who gave a damn whether or not I slept on a bare mattress or a loved quilt. But I didn't know how pointing that out would go, if he'd retreat altogether and I'd lose friend.

The rest had been the basics: shampoo, pillow, bread, plastic cups, assorted junk foods, bologna, and my clothes. I didn't have a lot of outfit choices, but what I did have was folded neatly in a corner. Joey took in my bare-bones living conditions and snorted.

"It's like your camping." I shrugged and went into the kitchen, snagging a bag of chips from the counter. My stomach was screaming at me and it was the fastest thing available for consumption. Plopping down on the mattress, I took off my jacket and started to munch.

"It's not that bad." I eventually murmured, crossing my legs beneath me. Honestly, there were days that this was better than what I'd had at home. I was left alone here, for the most part. Plus, a part of me had attached itself to the cruddy apartment. I'd spent almost a week here, suffering through the hardest sickness of my life. When most people would have associated the blank walls and stale smell with the horrible memories, I saw it as a reminder of my success. I'd fought. And this place was my witness.

"Yeah. It is." Joey retorted, smirking as he studied the room. "At least get a bed or somethin'." I raised an eyebrow. Was he really that clueless?

"With what?" I snapped, glaring at him over my chip bag. For some reason, I was never afraid to ask Joey questions. With Billy, I knew to keep my mouth shut. With Bones, I was careful. But with Joey, I didn't hold back. I was myself with him from day one. He frowned, not out of anger but confusion and I chomped a large chip in my mouth. As I chewed, I realized, he really was clueless. So I shrugged and sighed. "This is all I have." Joey processed this for a moment and slowly let out a breath.

"Where do ya work?" My face flushed; I'd never had a job. By the time I was old enough to work, I'd spent my free time out at night, living in a world where I didn't have to care. Or plan. I shrugged and Joey snorted.

"Ya have no money?" I squinted at him for a moment and flopped the chip bag between my legs.

"No. I don't." He watched me as I looked away, hating him for so easily revealing the pathetic state of my existence. I was dependent on Deb for so long, I was still a baby in many respects. Completely lost without my mother.

"There's a clinic cross town." I was lost in an instant, brow askew. Joey gestured to my body and I looked down. I'd been scratching my elbow subconsciously, the need perking up in my moment of exhaustion. I immediately stopped and wove my fingers together, hugging my knees to my chest.

"I'm fine." He snorted and slouched back in the lawn chair, causing it to squeak.

"Nobody kicks that shit." Joey sniffed and a glimmer of sadness appeared in his eye. Then it vanished just as quickly. "You either die or you die." I rolled my eyes, looking away. Even though he was being dramatic, he had a point. The methadone clinic was probably a good idea. My attention drifted back to Joey as he lit a cigarette, flicking his phone open to punch the buttons with his thumb.

"How can you sell it?" I asked. His eyes found mine and he paused. Then he flipped his phone closed and leaned forward.

"Sell what? H?" I nodded, setting my chin on my knees. I'd never asked Tix that question, but then again, I'd never questioned him when he gave me what I wanted. Joey shrugged. "I don't."

"Come on." I murmured. His hands came out at his sides, palms up.

"What? I don't! Ya gotta be in the gang ta sell the shit." My hands drifted down to my ankles.

"I thought you were." Joey shook his head, shrugging it off like it meant nothing. But in this part of the city, and being who he was, I knew he was faking. Being apart of his brother's gang and his father's business was almost like a duty, a passage that he hadn't completed. "Why not?" His eyes shot up to mine.

"I'm workin' on it." He snapped defensively. Then we were quiet, letting the topic rest. Joey smoked and played with his phone while I ate my chips in muted chews, savoring each salty bite. "So ya have nothing?" His question was quiet, almost an afterthought. I shrugged in response. Joey shifted and seemed to process for a second before he hissed a cloud of smoke and sat forward.

"What was she like?" It amazes me, even now, how much compassion Joey was capable of. He wasn't a hugger or a sap, but he wanted to know things and he wasn't afraid to ask.

"She worked hard." I started with the positive traits, feeling like I owed her a pretty painting. "She was always struggling, trying to make things better, but her boyfriends…" I let that part slide. It was too soon to start delving into that chaos. "They brought her down." I resolved quietly. "Made her weak."

To my surprise, his response was a small snort. Instantly I was glaring at him.

"She couldn't have been that weak." He explained. My brows slackened as he continued with a shrug. "She left Bones." I raised my head from my knees.

"But I thought— she never told me…" Joey waited until I dropped my hands in defeat. Deb never told me anything about Bones. What she said about my father was he didn't live with us and wouldn't live with us. "She made it sound like he didn't want us."

"Huh." He said with a smirk. "Well that's not how it went at all."

He told me a story, one that he'd heard from several sources: the men at the shop, old drunks at the bar.

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><p><em>She worked a long shift in the evening, leaving the club at almost two in the morning. But he didn't mind waiting. He would come in for a drink and cast her naughty smiles while she danced for other men. He wasn't jealous, even though she had dozens of singles in tucked in her panties. No, he couldn't be jealous of the drunk idiots around her. She was his. It was written all over her face when she met him outside in the alley. <em>

_Unlike her getup in the club, Debbie wore her hair up. The blonde, wavy locks hung loosely in a ponytail. And she wore simple clothes: jeans, blouse, and tennis shoes. Her excuse? If you were forced to wear high heels and underwear at work, you find joy in the opposite. He didn't mind. She was the only woman who took his breath away, clothes on or off. His men could see it, and he didn't mind. They would gossip, but he didn't worry. Nothing mattered to him when she was around. She'd bewitched him. _

_That night, he drove her home like all the other nights. That night, he'd made love to her softly, gently. And that night, she cried and told him. Told him that their lives would change forever. He'd been unable to think. So he'd left. _

_He went home to Stephanie. He went home to his sons. A slumbering toddler and a lanky sixth grader. For a moment, he wished they'd been Debbie's children. Then the news wouldn't be difficult. But they were Steph's. And Debbie didn't know about Steph. _

_When he told her, she'd broken. So did he. A part of his heart vanished when she screamed at him. Called him a liar. He'd changed. Staring at the other side of her door, he'd promised himself he'd never let a woman get to him again. Never again._

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><p>I couldn't tell you how long I sat, staring at my half-brother like he'd been speaking a foreign language. But Joey just waited, watching me carefully. The story was hard to hear. My mother, my father, in a time where they'd been happy. Together. Bones, loving her. It was so hard to understand, I almost couldn't see it. But then I remembered the glimmer in his eye. He had loved her once. That's why I wasn't dead. "That's why he hates me." I whispered. Joey frowned.<p>

"Bones?" I shook my head slowly.

"No." Joey's face softened in understanding.

"Joe." We both were startled, and I couldn't believe I hadn't seen him. Billy was standing in the door, watching us both. How long had he been there? When had he started listening? Joey shot out of the chair and stood motionless, frozen like a frightened animal. I didn't move. "Let's go." His voice was low, heavy, but not angry. It was wounded. Joey obeyed with quiet footsteps and he gave me a small glance before he moved into the hall.

Billy didn't say a word, slamming the door behind them.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed. Pushed Bones' character a little, tried to make sense of him. Tell me what you thought. Love you guys. =)<strong>


	13. Harley or Darley?

**OH dear lord...did I actually update this somewhat *gasp* quickly? Oh heavens. ;) Love to Sparkly, Dancing-Pinky-Flower, and xoShortee93! hugs all around! You got me through a rough post-surgery week and I love ya to pieces. Reading your kind words while in a drug-induced stupor made me grin like an idiot. Thank you thank you thank you. And as for the rest of you, my silent faithful readers, I love you too. =) Hope you enjoy. **

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><p>I won't bore you with the mundane. The next week or so isn't exactly thrilling story material. I got a job. Not a great one, but it paid. And that's what counts. Bagging groceries at Kmart for ten hours a day made me enough to start buying things on my own. The employee discount didn't hurt either. After a week, I had a modest wardrobe, a filled kitchen, and a chair. I'd felt an incredible swell of pride when I'd purchased the recliner. It was defective, which marked it down significantly, but so was I.<p>

I started calling the apartment mine sometime that week. Being left alone in the space made me feel like I owned it. So, I dragged the mattress from the living room into one of the back bedrooms, got my chair lugged inside, and cleaned what I could. And little by little it became my home. I didn't hope to permanently live there, but I had two weeks. I needed something to do.

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><p>It was six days before my birthday. I'd been keeping track, religiously, and the question of my future was finally starting to pick away at my nerves. Was I going to die? Did I really pose such a massive threat to my father? So one morning, against my better judgment, I went for a walk.<p>

It wasn't a short trip. I knew this before I set out. Dressed in my new jacket, jeans and boots, I took it at an easy pace, greeting the morning while the dew was still misting over the grass. The sidewalk was cracked in the bad neighborhoods and better on the main streets, and I followed it like Dorothy, knowing it led to my destination. The route was burned in my head, road signs and street names directing me deeper into Stokely.

As I walked, Joey's story crept back into my mind. It wasn't the first time I'd thought about what he'd said. In fact, there had been plenty of occasions where I had found myself lost in thought, thinking about my mother and all she'd been through. I never knew what she had sacrificed for me. Bones wasn't exactly prince charming, mind you, but he had loved her. And that was more than I could say for some of the idiots she had dated. My mind was cluttered with the "what ifs". If I had grown up with Bones, who would I have become?

Would I fit in this crazy family?

It didn't occur to me until I reached my destination that I hadn't thought of a game plan. Walking in, unannounced, without a good explanation wasn't good. So I paused outside the chain link fence and stared. Bones' Bodyshop.

"That should be two words." I muttered to myself. Then, with a sigh, I pushed open the fence and trudged through the front of the lot. It was getting brighter outside so the interior wasn't hard to navigate. I made it a good distance inside the dreary shop before I heard a familiar chuckle.

"I knew you'd come back for me, baby." You could see my eye roll from England. Scuffling my shoes, I came to a stop in front of my favorite stalker. Only this time, he'd skipped the pleasantries and gone straight to ogling. Brushing his oil-blackened hands over his jaw, he grinned at the tank under my jacket. Suddenly, I had the urge to swear off tank tops for the rest of my life.

"Can I see Bones?" I asked curtly, crossing my arms to hide what little of my chest there was to see. He looked up at my face and snorted.

"Did he call ya?" He stepped closer and I realized curt probably wasn't the best approach. So I softened.

"No. I just need to ask him a question." With another snort, he advanced, wiping his hands on his white wifebeater. The decent muscles that were rippling beneath the flimsy material would have distracted any other girl, but his eyes trumped any physical attraction I could have ever had. He was a predator. Not a hot man with bad manners. The girls he took home probably limped when they left. Licking his top lip and tisking through his teeth, he reached out with a finger and brushed the tip of my chin.

"I don't know if your new or what, but ya come when you're called, babe." Then he grabbed my chin in two fingers and I inhaled quickly in surprise. "But ya can come for me anytime." He whispered. The old me would have played along to get the hell out of that garage. Shit, I still wanted to do it. The sleazy words to purr back at him were in my brain, sitting on the end of my tongue. The habit was there, and it was the path of least resistance. So tempting.

But the new me thought about my mother. I may not have thought much of her, but she had the balls enough to tell Bones to hit the road. I doubt many people got away with that; got away with that and lived that is. So I bit down on my jaw and jerked my head away, glaring at him like my anger could summon storms.

"Do ya know who I am, asshole?" I spit a little as I hissed at him, reaching out to shove his hand from my face. His expression changed like a switch. From one to the next in the blink of an eye. Dangerous. That's the only word I can come up with. Not angry, just dangerous. I'd mouthed off to more than just a horny asshole.

"Harley." My eyes darted at the call, off into the shop, and watched a figure push through a plastic sheet. In the dark, I recognized the strut. And I nearly fainted. How many times was Steven going to save me from this guy? "What are ya doin' here?" He asked, eyeing the man looming over me. A rag hung from his jeans and he pulled it out, wiping his hands on it while he came to rest beside his coworker. With a small nod, he addressed him. "Sup Rick."

"She wants ta see Bones." Rick hissed. Steven tucked the rag in his pocket and pulled the bottom of his shirt from his jeans to swipe the fabric over his mouth. All the while, flashing his tanned abs. My stomach churned slightly at the sight and it caught me off guard. Sure, Steven was good looking, but the burning sensation in my stomach was startling.

"Alright, I got it." He said with a sigh. Rick raised a brow and scoffed with disgust.

"Since fuckin' when do girls just waltz in here? Who the fuck is she?" He growled. I opened my mouth to enlighten him, but Steven crossed his arms and snapped back, cutting me off.

"I said, I got it." He barked, his expression growing from casual to threatening. Clearly, he held a little better standing with Bones than Rick. And I was grateful. Rick glanced between us for a moment, then sniffed, as if he was over the issue that quickly. Stepping away, he returned to the dark, flipping plastic aside to disappear into the shop. Steven shook his head slightly and turned to look at me. His eyes were stern, bordering on angry.

"What the hell are ya doin' here, Harley?" He asked in a hushed growl. I shifted my weight from foot to the other and softened my defiant stare.

"I need ta see him." I said quietly. Steven rolled his eyes and looked at me for a second, probably noticing the small differences since we'd last seen each other. I'd been eating, for one, and I'd gone to the clinic. It wasn't the best experience in the world, but it had come at just the right moment. My addiction was still there, it just hid deep inside, creeping slowly to the surface when I was tired and beat down. The methadone was helpful and I'd been glad Joey mentioned it.

Because I'd been eating, sleeping, and otherwise living like a normal human being, my skin had improved. A little color had returned to my face and the dark circles under my eyes were almost gone. I'd even been debating a haircut to start fresh on all fronts. But, for now, my hair was the same, tucked into a ponytail.

After staring at me for a second, Steven put a hand on my back and pushed me forward with a sigh. Leading me to the back of the shop, he kept close, and leaned down to mutter into my ear.

"Next time, don't show up unannounced." I nodded and he shook his head again. Somehow, just when I thought I'd gained some standing with him, I would do something and he'd go back to treating me like a child. My age may say I'm not an adult, but my life had had other plans. Steven slowed once we neared the office and turned towards me.

"And don't fuck around with Rick." I raised an eyebrow.

"That's exactly what he wants me to do." Steven's lips twitched with a hint of a smile, but he shook his head.

"He's one of Bones'…" Suddenly he stopped and stared at me, as if he'd forgotten I wasn't to be trusted. Then his eyes grew serious and he leaned close to me, so close I could smell him. Sweat and deodorant. Man smell. Man smell that made my stomach turn again. "Remember that body?" He whispered. I nodded, looking up into his eyes. Then he took hold of my shoulder. "Rick deals with the people who don't feel like payin. Got me?" Did I ever. My mouth opened a little as I ran my recent conversation with Bones' hitman through my head. _Do ya know who I am asshole? _

"Jesus." I whispered. Steven smirked a little and tapped my shoulder before motioning to the door.

"Play nice." He murmured. I stepped slowly into the room and glanced back at Steven. But he'd walked away, his broad shoulders and long legs fading from view in the dark hall. My boots made plenty of noise on the concrete floor and I stuffed my hands in my jacket.

"Hello?" I called hesitantly as I wandered forward.

"What now?" He thundered so loud I froze in place. Then he appeared around the corner, peering at me from behind his ridiculous glasses. When he realized who I was, he slumped a little. "The fuck ya doin' here?" He asked, moving behind his desk. I took a deep breath and thought about Deb. Short, blonde, wimpy Debbie, kicking this frightening man out of her apartment.

"If I was gonna go to the cops, I would have done it by now." I blurted the words like vomit, saying them faster than I intended. When he didn't respond right away, I wondered if he'd understood a thing I'd said. "My birthday is in six days." I took my time, forcing myself to breath. My heart was pounding but I steadied myself with concentration. This time, he smirked and squeaked forward in his chair.

"And ya want me ta call off Billy." I swallowed. Call off. He made it sound like my death was already a done deal.

"I'm not gonna rat. I've got no reason to." I wasn't exactly saying yes, but pointing out the reasons he should do just that. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"Ya saw a body on my floor." I stepped closer to his desk, my determination kindling.

"None of my business." Then he snorted, grinning at me. It was enough to calm my panicking pulse. He studied my face and his small smile was genuine. It was a little frightening how real it was.

"I aint gonna kill ya." He said with a shrug. I probably would have dropped my jaw if it hadn't been hooked on. "But Billy…" He shrugged again and stood up. "Give 'im one reason and you'll end up in an empty lot." I nodded. Obviously my problem with Billy had nothing to do with Bones' feelings towards me. In fact, I think I was growing on my father. "That it?" He said with a sniff, wandering off towards his safe.

"Yeah." But for some reason, I didn't turn to leave. I watched him. And he noticed, raising both his brows.

"Then get out." He said. I nodded, but only stepped back a little before I stopped again.

"No one knows who I am, do they?" Bones continued turning the dial on the safe until it clicked open, then he threw open the door, revealing a plethora of guns. I gulped, wondering if the veto on my death sentence was a solid decision. But he didn't touch what was inside, looking at me like I'd asked for a Barbie dream house.

"Who are ya?" He finally said back. Then he snorted and turned to his safe, dismissing me as he pulled a shotgun from inside.

It was a fair question. Now that my identity was in social limbo, who was I? Was I Harley Todd, daughter of the late Debbie Todd, or was I Harley Todd, daughter of Bones Darley? Which one would Billy want me to choose? Better question: would he kill me if I tried to be his sister?

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><p><strong>Expect a chapter soon!...seriously.<strong>


	14. It's all in the eyes

**I have no life. Another chapter as promised. Shout out to xoShortee93! and of course I love all my readers. Thanks so much you guys! Hope you enjoy. =)**

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><p>I worked whenever I could those first two weeks. It was something to do and I needed the money. So I took whatever shifts I could; and most of the time that meant the late shift, closing up at night.<p>

It was two days before my birthday. At that point, I wasn't nervous. I was sort of numb to the whole thing, going day to day. The gang never showed up, no one got shot, gas stations weren't robbed, and people weren't killed. Nothing happened in those two weeks. It was extremely boring, honestly. So I would forget my situation; it would slip from my reality like it had all been a bad dream. I could even rationalize my calm demeanor to myself. _You're gonna be fine. Killing you would only be something else for Billy to deal with. You've been good. _

But that night brought a chilling reminder.

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><p>I didn't have a car so I walked pretty much everywhere. Kmart was only a ten-minute walk and I stayed on the main roads, so the stretch wasn't bad. I liked walking in the dark sometimes. It was calm and quiet, more so than any other place in the city. By the time I got off at ten, there weren't many people wandering around so I could stare at the ground as I went, looking up only when a car whizzed by a little too close.<p>

That particular night, I did just that. It was cool and dark and my boots scuffed on the sidewalk as I went. I liked wearing them everywhere, even though they stood out from the norm when I worked. But I didn't care. Regular shoes made me feel less protected. The thick soles and hard toes shielded me from the real world. No more aching Achilles tendons from sky-high heels. I still had the pair I was wearing that night, the night my mother died. Each time I looked at them, I would remember the way I'd been tossed around. First at the police station, the alley, then at Bones' shop. I had been a rag doll, flung around at the mercy of others while I'd do nothing.

I wasn't completely changed. At night, in my apartment, I could hear the chatter of parties down the block. The whole neighborhood seemed to come to life after dark, mostly on the weekends. It would be easy to slip on those heels and wander into one, let loose and forget all my problems. But that's how I'd chosen to live life before, and it hadn't gotten me anywhere nice. So I would just listen, curled up in my recliner, staring at the black hiking boots on my feet.

The sound of a motor tore me from my walk and I glanced up, just as a truck pulled up beside me. It drifted at my side, slowing down to keep pace with my steps. I smiled at the chipped blue paint as the driver's window rolled down.

"You're an idiot." I smiled wider. Steven was staring at me with a tired expression, hand rested on the steering wheel in a lazy flop.

"Hello to you too." I replied, hands deep in my pockets.

"Walkin' alone at night in this neighborhood is plain stupid." He said flatly. "For someone who has shit luck, ya really don't try to avoid trouble." I rolled my eyes and turned away, focusing on the road. He liked to poke at my bruises sometimes, trying to make me listen to him probably. All it did was make me want to hit him in the nose.

"Get in the car." He ordered, his voice growing softer when he noticed my frustration.

"For someone who doesn't care, ya really tend ta mother me." I grumbled back. From the first day I met him, Steven knew how to make me grumpy. He pointed out the things about me that I hadn't fixed, but never complimented the good things. I knew he was right; it was just fucking irritating.

"Harley, I'm not askin'." His voice was gruff again. I wasn't sure if he'd heard me or not, but from his tone, my guess is he had.

"Steven, I'm fine." I said coldly. "It's a ten minute walk and it's lit. I don't have a car so I don't have a choice." Suddenly he laughed, dry and abrupt.

"Would ya listen to yourself? I'm offerin' ya a ride and your tellin' me ya don't got a choice?" I slowed my step and glanced at him, realizing how foolish that sounded. He braked and I stopped, biting the inside of my cheek. Then I grunted to myself and circled the truck.

The heater made the car comfortable and I was quickly sinking into the worn, soft fabric seat. Steven rolled up his window and eased back into the road, glancing at me as I looked out the window.

"Ya didn't ask me." I said softly. His head gradually turned to face me, his eyes snapping between the road and my stare.

"Ask ya what?" I rolled my eyes.

"If I wanted a ride. Ya ordered me." The truck bumbled along, leaving us with only small thuds and clamors in the silence. Steven faced the road for a second then turned to meet my eyes.

"Sorry." I wasn't expecting an apology so I just stared, stunned. But he thought nothing of it, driving calmly towards home. I let my eyes wander and I noticed his clothes. They were dirty, like the day I'd shown up at the shop. He worked hard. It was apparent in his paint-spotted and oil-smeared jeans and rough, calloused hands. Being a thug wasn't like the movies. There wasn't money in standing around with a gun in your hand. Steven was walking proof.

"You should talk ta Bones 'bout a car." He randomly spouted. I smirked and he raised an eyebrow, tossing me a quick glance. "What?"

"Ya think Daddy will give me a car?" His face broke into a small grin and I let my smirk grow into a smile.

"For what it's worth, I think he likes ya." I laughed then, tossing my head back. Steven fought to keep his lips together in a massive grin.

"I think there's a big difference between like and wont kill me." He nodded slightly, taking a turn.

"Yeah, but ya kicked heroin." I studied his expression, my laughter calming. Steven caught my eye for a second. "The second ya did that, you ensured he wasn't gonna kill ya." I nodded a little, realizing what he meant. I'd gained some respect in Bones' eyes. "Then ya barge into his shop and demand ta see him." Steven snorted and shook his head. "That took balls, Harley." I blushed a little, tracing the seam along the knee of my jeans. "If there's one things Bones respects, it's balls." He left it at that and I clasped my hands, looking back out the window. There were a few people on the sidewalks. Normally, I didn't go this way on foot. It was the seedier route. Faster, but definitely not safer.

As we slowed at a red light, I stared at the gloomy buildings and deserted lot that lined the block. Then a woman's face caught my eye. To this day, I can't say what told me to look again. It was one of those things the eyes catch but the mind doesn't; like when you scan a page and see a word without reading it. I squinted as she walked past the truck. Maybe it was her general disarray that warranted another glance, or maybe I saw her eyes the first time.

Because once you saw her eyes, there was no mistaking who she was. At least to me.

"Stop." I said, pressing my palm into the dash as he started to go at the green light.

"Why?" He said with a crooked brow. But he didn't slow, so I threw open the door, forcing him to screech to a stop completely. "JESUS!" He shouted. I was long gone by the time he turned to yell at me to get back in the truck. My body had a mind of its own, rushing me forward when my mind said my actions were completely irrational.

I followed her at a slow walk and watched her turned down an alley. Glancing around, I made sure I wasn't being watched in turn. Following people on a dark street was an invitation for trouble. A sarcastic snort hissed from my nose when I realized how right Steven was. Harley Todd, trouble magnet. But I didn't stop following her. I crept up to the corner, peering around the side carefully.

"Harley, what the fuckin' hell are ya doin'?" His voice echoed in the brick alley and I whirled around, holding a finger up to my lips. Steven charged up next to me and ignored my hushing altogether, taking hold of my arm to drag me back to the truck pulled off to the side of the road.

"Just wait." I hissed, jerking my arm from his grasp. Then I rounded the corner, walking briskly down the length of the dark path. His boots crunched behind me and he appeared at my side.

"What are ya doin'?" He repeated the question, but a little quieter. Maybe it was curiosity, but for some reason he was whispering to me instead of yelling.

"I don't know." I murmured back, stepping quicker. Once around the corner, I peeked and saw an old, condemned building. It was maybe an old store, or office. I hadn't the slightest idea, but I ducked into the open back door without a moment of hesitation, Steven firmly grasping my arm. He didn't try to stop me, but held on as a protective measure.

It was very dark inside, but a faint light led us further inside. I was on a mission and Steven was compliant, so I didn't slow. Pushing open another door, we stepped into a large, open space. The second we did, shuffling of feet made us freeze and several pairs of eyes stared back at us in the dark.

"COPS!" Suddenly all the eyes vanished and the scuffling became pounding footsteps.

"No! We're not cops!" I shouted, waving my hands in the dark. "I'm sorry if we startled you."

"What the fuck is this?" Steven hissed in my ear, tugging on my arm. He wanted to leave, but he took a step, his body slightly in front of mine in the doorway.

"If ya aren't cops, then leave." A voice snapped from the dark. I squinted and slowly my eyes adjusted. A woman, the one I was following, stepped forward. Her eyes made my heart pound as they scrutinized me in the dark. I took a moment to study her and it made my stomach hurt.

She was blonde. Her hair was matted and dirty, but it was blonde. That much was obvious by the few stands that caught the light. Her face was gaunt, but held a shape of distinction. She wasn't afraid of me and it showed in her high cheekbones and defined chin. Her nose was sharp and perfectly straight, oddly beautiful for someone hiding in the darkness.

"Are ya deaf?" I opened my mouth in a wordless response. The skin on her arms was loose, almost hanging off her bones. Because that's all she was, skin and bones. But the track marks were the worst part.

They were everywhere.

Some were large and obviously infected while others were so old they'd faded into scars. I winced in familiarity, subconsciously feeling my own arm in shame. She had been beautiful once, and so had I.

"Harley." Steven whispered in my ear and I realized he was pulling on me. I took a step back, yielding to him finally when the woman's eyes shot up to mine once again. Startling, chilling, clear, and blue.

"Harley." He said my name again and I let myself go, allowing him to drag me back the way we came. Once outside, I stared uselessly ahead while I was pulled back to the truck. "You gonna tell me what the hell that was?" His voice was angry.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. I had no other words. There's a point, sometimes, where the mind is so shocked by something it shuts down. And I had reached that point.

"I'm beginnin' ta think your crazy. Chargin' into a fuckin' dark ass building like that. No wonder the first time I saw ya I had ta pull a fuckin' homeless bum off ya. Goddamn it, Harley."

It wasn't until he'd closed me in the passenger seat that my body responded to my mind. My chest shuddered with a sob and my eyes flooded with tears. Steven wasn't even inside before I was crying into my hands.

"Oh shit." He muttered, climbing into his seat. "Harley." I gasped for air between my sobs. My chest was in agony but I wrenched more cries regardless. Steven touched my shoulder, weakened by my outburst. "I don't think your crazy. Maybe you just—" I looked up at him from my hands, my face red and wet from crying.

"I wanna go home." Steven froze, staring at my expression. Then, with slow movements, he obeyed, starting the car.

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><p>He followed me inside. I guess, looking back, I should have expected it. But when he walked behind me into the apartment, I ignored him, hoping he'd just leave.<p>

"I'm sorry, alright?" He blurted, flopping his hands to his sides. "Jesus, Harley. I didn't mean ta make ya cry. I just…I'm gettin' tired of always savin' your ass." I glared up at him.

"I'm not cryin' because of you." Then his brow knotted. I stomped away, ripping open the refrigerator for a bottle of water. My throat hurt from crying and I'd probably shrivel up into a prune at the rate I was going. He stepped quietly into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway.

"Then what's this all about?" He asked gently, gesturing to my continuing, quiet tears. I took a pull from the bottle and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Do you know who that was?" I hissed it at him, blinking through wet lashes. Steven frowned.

"What, the homeless junkie?" I shuddered and cried harder, flopping back against the counter and covering my eyes with a hand. "Shit, Harley." He stepped closer but hesitated, deciding to stand in the middle of the floor, arms crossed.

"Did ya see her face?" I asked, looking at him once I lowered my hand. He shook his head. I wheezed a few more sobs. "He looks just like her." Steven frowned and stepped closer until he was only a foot away, looking down at me.

"Who?" My body trembled as I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

"Billy." His face fell into a stony, neutral expression and I watched him, my face crunching up into another cry. "That was Stephanie, Billy and Joey's mother." Steven slowly shook his head.

"No, Bones said she left." I sniffed and shook my head.

"It was her." Then I looked into his eyes. "He hates me and now I know why." His brow arched.

"Because his mother's a junkie livin' in abandoned buildings?" His phrasing brought on another round of sobs and he closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. Then he did something unexpected. Steven stepped forward and encircled me in his arms. And, like the time in the lot, I grabbed onto him, clinging desperately for comfort.

"Bones loved my mother and not his. He wanted to leave Stephanie for Deb, but my mom…she told him no. She was furious that he'd lied." I cried into his chest, my mascara adding black smears to the various other dirty things on the cotton shirt. But I didn't care. His arms were holding me close and I was grateful. My body was shaking with fear. "He's gonna kill me. He's gonna put a bullet in my head because I ruined his family. Probably drove his mother to drugs. I caused it all." Steven ripped my head back with both hands splayed over my cheeks.

"Stop that." He said briskly. "Even if that was Billy's mom, you have no idea why she started shootin' up. Bones cheated plenty of times. Fuck, she coulda been doin' that long before he met your mother." I shook my head, his words falling on deaf ears.

"It's my fault. Billy hates me. He should hate me." Steven shook my head a little, cutting me off.

"Shut up, Harley. Just stop." I took a few breaths, more tears flowing from my eyes. Taking a slow, calming breath, he continued. "What Bones did with your mother has nothing ta do with ya. And what Billy's mother did has nothing ta do with ya." I sniffled but more hot tears dribbled down my cheeks, wetting his hands. "You were a baby." Slowly I calmed and his hands drifted down to my shoulders, resting there as I took longer breaths.

"He's not going to keep me around." I whispered. "Why would he? I have no one. No one would go lookin' for me." Steven sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Billy won't kill ya. Not if he doesn't want Bones' .45 shoved up his ass." I looked into his eyes, startled.

"But Bones said—" Steven snorted.

"He says one thing, but does what he wants." I swallowed and Steven smoothed his thumbs over my upper arms. "I know for a fact that Billy wouldn't kill ya without clearin' it with Bones, and Bones won't let that happen." I felt a small sense of relief pool in my stomach.

"Because he loved Deb." I murmured, remembering the look in his eye when he mentioned her.

"Because he likes ya." Steven corrected. "You're kinda endearing." I glanced up and Steven gave me a warm smile. It was the biggest one I'd seen on him. It went all the way up to his eyes. The feeling in my stomach grew and I kept his gaze, reading what he wasn't saying. _I like you too. _

"I'm kinda a mess." I added, wiping a hand over my cheeks. Then his hand appeared under my chin. With a gentle lift of his finger, he tilted my face up to his.

"Just a little." I managed a small smile, but tears rolled down my cheeks regardless. My guilt hadn't vanished entirely. Seeing Billy's mother had crushed a part of me. Not only did I feel responsible, but I saw myself in her. I saw what I would have become.

"Thanks." I murmured. Steven smirked a little, then his eyes lowered to my lips. Suddenly, my heart stopped, I couldn't breathe, and my skin was buzzing. He looked into my eyes again and I let my head drift forward; barely, but enough, and he closed the distance. His kiss was soft and warm, making my heart furiously race in my chest. Pressing his mouth to mine, his lips were gentle, not pressuring or expectant. Each small kiss was so light, they felt like glancing blows, but I didn't mind. No man had kissed me this way before. There was feeling in his actions, compassion.

When he stopped, my eyes were closed. I didn't want it to be over; it was like waking up from a brief, beautiful dream. But I eventually opened my eyes and watched as he lowered his hands to his sides.

"You'll be fine." He murmured.

Then he left, closing the front door with a soft click. I didn't move for a long while, just staring at the doorway where he'd disappeared. Eventually, my eyes wandered to the small clock on the microwave. It was past midnight.

One more day.

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><p><strong>Apologies for any mistakes. It's quite late, I shall be checking once I've replenished my brain cells.<br>Whelp...the big day is upon us. Thoughts?**


	15. Surprise party

**So, I sit down to write something else, *cough cough* shortsforCherieandSparkly *cough* and suddenly BOING! here comes an idea for Harley. So sorry my darlings, but ****that's how my process works. Anyway, we've been waiting for Harley's birthday, and I figured it needed to be sort of a big deal...so yeah. I made a mess. I hope you enjoy. =)  
><strong>

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><p>The moment the clock struck midnight, and I'd joined the ranks of adulthood, I was staring at my front door with baited breath. I half expected a death squad to bust into my apartment. That's how paranoid I was. Sounds foolish, but it's true. I waited, my stomach churning, for hours. When the day came and went, I let myself relax. Steven hadn't lied; I was safe. My life was mine again.<p>

Boy was I in for a surprise, and not the good kind.

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><p>The day after my birthday I was heading off for work. Unlike usual, my shift was early so I was dressed and stepping out into the hall before the sun had completely cleared the horizon. It was still a little cold, so I was shivering out in the unheated hallway, scurrying beneath gloves to lock my front door.<p>

That's when a hand clapped over my mouth. At first, I don't think I knew what to do. My body jumped from shock and I dropped my keys, heart slamming into my ribs. Then the rag appeared, shoved over my nose and mouth in a rough smother. My reaction was far from docile. Legs flying, I kicked off from the floor and my hands flew up to my face, clawing at the massive palms pulling my head back. I remember trying to rip away and the top of my scalp hit something hard, but it took only seconds for the hallway to start blurring. A warm, pleasant sensation grew in my brain and a sweet taste filled my mouth before I felt myself falling.

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><p>It was extremely quiet when I woke up. It was that eerie kind of silent, where you know you're not alone, but you can't justify the feeling with sound. My eyes wouldn't open at first. They felt heavy and lazy, unwilling to aid my confusion. That frustration manifested in a small moan and I groped through my memories. When I remembered the hallway, a sense of urgency woke my nerves and my pulse skyrocketed. Eyes open, I stared.<p>

A ceiling. Chipping, white, boring. I was lying down on something.

"Mornin' your highness." My head flopped onto its side as I tried to find the source of the voice. What I saw brought another, frightened whine to my throat. There were six men, standing in an open room. All dressed in black, all wearing ski masks. One was standing next to me, his gloved hands crossed into the crooks of his arms. "Ya scream, you'll regret it." That's when I realized I was taped. The skin over my mouth tugged as I opened my lips to respond. His fingers drifted towards the corner of my mouth and his head cocked to the side.

"Did ya hear me, bitch?" I nodded slightly, working hard to do so with a head that weighed four hundred pounds. In a strange sense, the high of whatever I'd inhaled made me unable to do anything with speed. I felt like I was crawling through molasses. He tore off the tape without warning and my resulting cry was involuntary.

"SHUT UP." He barked, gripping my face in his hand. I struggled to remain quiet, staring up into the blazing brown eyes above me. It wasn't Billy. That much was obvious. And his voice was new to me; I'd never heard a word from this man. I was clueless. Releasing me, he stepped back, circling the table slowly like a lion stalking its prey. My eyes wandered through the rest of the group. They were all identical, dressed from head to toe in black. Only their heights varied. That and the eyes that stared back at me from behind their masks. Three stood in a spread line, arms crossed like their leader, who continued to circle. The last two were too far away to see clearly, but they were standing close to each other, watching with the same ferocity as their comrades.

"Imagine my surprise, findin' out Bones-y had a widdle girl." He finally spoke again, his voice drifting over my head. I tilted my chin to find him, but he slipped around the corner, appearing near my shoulder.

"What do ya want?" I asked it with a slurred voice, almost ditzy sounding. His laugh moved into my ear and I shivered, feeling his breath ghost over my neck. He was so close.

"I WANT BONES DARLEY." He shouted into my ear. Instantly my eyes prickled with pain, ears ringing even when his voice had long dissipated.

"Please don't hurt me." I'm not proud of my lack of courage, but it was terrifying. My head was already cloudy with a fading high and his voice had cut into my mind like a knife. Tears clumsily ran from my eyes, but I didn't cry exactly. My brain knew to be afraid, but my body was slow on the uptake. His hand closed on my throat, squeezing roughly.

"If ya don't start tellin' me what ya know, I'm gonna do just that." His grip relaxed a little and I coughed, rolling my head around in a panicked attempt at breathing. A laugh made his eyes sparkle. Leaning, he came close to my face, the air from his nostrils teasing my cheek. "But it won't be fast. You're too pretty for fast." My body finally responded appropriately. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin and I cried. "Waste not." He added with a whisper, his fingertip tracing the neckline of my V-neck t-shirt.

"I promise, I don't know anything." Honestly, I knew very little, if anything, important. Bones hadn't sat me down and spilled his guts, I didn't know where he lived; I didn't know where his money was. All I really could tell anyone was that I'd seen a dead body in his shop and he had at least four men in the building at all times. Two armed, two not. That wasn't helpful to a cop, especially without details, but to another criminal… I swallowed, realizing my fate was sealed. I would never rat out my father, and I would die for it. The only question was could I do it? _Can you keep your mouth shut through the pain that lies ahead? _

"Oh, but ya do." He purred at me, standing up again to stare down at me. "Bones' men. I want names." I cried. _Steven, Rick, Burk, and…Knoll? _My tears weren't an acceptable answer and he slammed a hand next to my head.

"WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES?" I pinched my eyes closed, sobbing hysterically. _He hasn't even touched you yet. What happens when he does? _My throat hurt as I tried to speak.

"Ple— please. I d—d—on't know." His arm vanished behind his back and returned with a shining handgun.

"Do ya think I'm playin'?" As he clicked the slide, I screamed and thrashed, my legs joining the party with weak kicks. He turned and motioned to the three men. Without a word, they swooped around me, grabbing my legs and arms to hold me in place.

"NO!" I was hysterical, staring at the gun in his hand. "PLEASE! I DON'T KNOW!" The cold metal touched my denim-clad knee.

"Which leg do ya like more?" He asked, switching from one to the other as he stared down at me. The hands on my body were painful, digging into my limbs without mercy as I tried to escape. Pleading was abandoned as I blubbered in horror. He moved the gun back and forth, stopping between my thighs for a moment. Then the barrel slid down my left leg, sending bolts of alarm to my brain. _No no no. Not that. _When the tip of the gun met its mark, I squirmed and screamed.

Instantly, his hand was over my mouth, his face so close his nose grazed my cheek.

"Do that again. I dare ya." I closed my eyes and shook as the weapon pressed harder into my crotch. It wasn't just the gun, or the touch. Something snapped inside of me. It was like a hidden trap door, triggered the second that barrel fell between my legs. My head spun with fear but suddenly the gun was moving away.

"How 'bout ya tell me 'bout big brother?" His voice was sickly sweet, his lips tickling the outside of my ear. "Joey." He whispered the name seductively and my heart fell. _Why does he care about Joey? _

"Let me go." I pleaded in a whisper, turning my face away from him. "Please."

"Or Billy?" I whimpered and closed my eyes. "How can I get ta him, huh?" _Oh shit, Stephanie._ My eyes flew open in horror as my mind narrowed in on an answer. I knew where their mother had been living two days ago. I knew she was still in Boston. He sensed the shift in my thoughts and grabbed my face. "Uh oh. There it is." My body tensed as he traced my bottom lip with a thumb. "Tell me." I realized I'd stopped breathing, terrified of my own discovery. I did know something. The stakes had been upped.

"No." I wheezed. It wasn't hard to say it the first time. I'd played tough guy once or twice with Tim. But he wasn't Tim. This man would kill me without blinking an eye, and would enjoy torturing me to get what he wanted.

The gun flew to my forehead, the barrel pressed hard into my skull. I whimpered and closed my eyes, shaking wildly.

"Tell me or I blow ya head off." He hissed into my face. When I didn't answer, eyes clamped closed, his other hand smoothed over my cheek. "Not afraid of dyin' huh?" Of course I was afraid. I'm certain if I'd opened my eyes, I would have pissed my pants in fear. "I'm beginnin' ta think you're more afraid of this…" His hand vanished and I heard a zipper.

My eyes opened in a flash and I saw him fumbling with his fly. Horror washed through me in a tidal wave.

"Hold 'er down." He grumbled as he unbuttoned. The hands on my legs held them wide and I kicked against them. Any grogginess I had felt was gone, leaving only panic. My body flooded with searing heat, my arms and face on fire as I screamed yet again. I don't remember consciously what I did, but I was begging and sobbing, watching him circle the table until he stood between my legs.

Lifting one hand, he tugged and my legs dangled at the sides of his thighs.

I vomited and the screaming stopped.

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><p>I knew I was in his arms. Don't ask me how, I couldn't tell you. Maybe it was his scent. Or maybe it was the sound of his boots on the ground. It was surreal how safe I felt, stupid even. But I let him carry me and didn't try to open my eyes. He'd saved me.<p>

Billy had saved me.

When I was abruptly dropped onto something soft, I let the thick fog of unconsciousness fade. The smells around me were mine. Taking a deep breath in the blanket under my cheek, I knew I was home. He'd taken me home.

"Billy." I whispered for him, knowing he wasn't far. My whole body hurt and my throat was sore from screaming. A rustling answered my quiet voice and my eyes fluttered open. He was standing against the wall of my bedroom, leaning with his arms crossed.

And he was wearing all black.

"Ya passed the test." He rumbled, staring with hard eyes.

_What?_

I sat up and gaped at him, lost for words. Tears burned as they started up again, leaking from my eyes. When I took a breath, it came out a loud, dry sob. Then I was silent, grappling with my horror. That had been a test? Billy hadn't rescued me; he'd been my abductor in the first place.

"Ya try ta buy from me, I'll kill ya." He stood off the wall and started for the door. "Ya use again, Bones'll kill ya." I stared, open-mouthed, and he remained motionless with his hand on the knob. "Don't mess this up." He added quietly. Then he threw open the door and vanished, his boots thumping down the hall.

I let out all the pent up emotion inside of me in a long, hard sob. Maybe it was more of a yell. But, regardless, I did it again and again until I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned for air and I would gasp, fighting for oxygen. Then sob some more.

It was a solid half an hour before I quieted. My body was shaking and my throat was hoarse so I finally stood on wobbly legs to get a drink of water. Pressing my palms into the walls, I guided myself down the hall towards the kitchen. But I never made it there.

When I stepped into the living room, Steven was sitting in my chair. Dressed in black.

"Oh my god." I whispered, convulsing as I took in his clothes. He'd been there. Steven.

"Harley…" His voice was gentle and he shot from the chair at the sight of me, palms out in surrender.

"I trusted you." My heart broke with each second. _He'd watched them interrogate you. He let them touch you._

"I had no choice." He murmured, taking a step forward. I shrunk back towards the hall.

"I kissed you." Disgust stabbed my stomach and I bolted. Steven lurched after me as I ran, but I beat him, slamming the bathroom door closed and flipping the lock. "GET OUT!" I shrieked, sliding to the floor against the wooden door at my back.

"It was Billy's idea. I went so I could—" He called to me through the door.

"YOU LET THEM PUT A GUN TO MY HEAD!" I wailed, clutching my legs to my chest.

"It wasn't loaded." Steven murmured.

"Like hell it wasn't." I spat. "I thought I was gonna die. I was beggin' for my life and ya just stood there!" Saying the words brought more tears and I lamented loudly, recalling my fear and letting it mingle with the betrayal burning in my chest.

"I wouldn't have let anything happen—"

"Get out." I hissed. "GET OUT!" He didn't speak for a moment and I wished he'd just leave.

"Harley—"

"GO AWAY!" I howled, letting the pain seep into my voice. Then I settled my face in my knees, crying without a sound. I was out of steam, left with nothing but squeaks as I convulsed.

"We had to be sure." His voice was closer somehow. Like he'd sat down on the other side.

"Fuck you." I whispered, closing my arms around my head. He didn't say anything. Even though he'd let this happen, he was still protecting me, trying to fix it. I didn't want him to. When I'd calmed a little, I let my legs loose on the floor, stretching out on the cold tile.

"I'm sorry." His voice was tired, worn out.

"I hate you." I snapped back. Even though anger had started to dominate my fear, another cry crumpled my face.

"This is what you wanted!" He suddenly shouted, making me jump. "You wanted our trust. This was the only way you could earn it!" The truth of his words couldn't be challenged. I knew he was right. With Billy, I would have been a liability until proven otherwise. This had proven otherwise. But I was still pissed.

"You have no idea what that was like." I flinched, remembering the sickness I'd felt as I tugged to the edge of the table.

"I know what it felt like ta watch, hatin' every second." He growled through the door. "Havin' Billy watchin' me, seein' if I'd break." I blinked and wiped my cheeks.

"Why would he be watchin' you?" I muttered. Steven sighed and could almost see him, sitting on the other side of the door.

"Cuz he thinks I'm a softy." I laughed, despite myself.

"Why on earth would he think that?" I spat bitterly. "You only made me think ya cared about me."

"Goddamn it, Harley." He hissed. "Do ya think I like how this went?"

"Turned out fine for you." I snapped. "You passed Billy's test with flyin' colors. Didn't bat a fuckin' eyelash for me." Another round of tears fell down my cheeks. The hardest thing for me to face was I had wanted him to save me. Lying on that table, the thought had crossed my mind. I wanted a hero, and Steven had been my hero. For almost a month now.

He scoffed.

"When ya started screamin' like that…at the end…" He stopped for a moment, his voice dying out before he sighed and tried again. "I couldn't listen to it anymore. Nearly broke Zane's jaw gettin' to ya." I swallowed, bringing in my legs once again to hug them close. "So no. I didn't pass." Steven muttered.

"Which one was Zane?" I whispered.

"The talker." He answered softly. I shivered. That voice would forever haunt me.

"So when were ya plannin' on stoppin' him?" I muttered. "When he'd raped me or gotten me to talk?"

"Harley…" His voice was pained and I could tell I'd hit a nerve.

"Go away, Steven." I moaned.

"He wasn't gonna rape ya." He was angry, snarling from the hallway. "But the asshole was pushin' it." Steven added, muttering in rough hisses. I was ashamed at the relief I felt at his words. I was angry with him, but the defensive fury he felt on my behalf was quelling the pain in my gut. "Billy better straighten him out or I will." That caught my attention.

"Yeah right." Steven scoffed and I could hear him getting agitated.

"Billy was pissed 'bout that shit. 'specially when ya freaked like that." I didn't believe a word of it. Not at first. I let the idea sink in, slowly. Then I remembered his arms, cradling me in an oddly gentle manner as he carried me to my bed. Scooting my butt on the floor, I moved away from the door and stared up at the knob. "Might act like he doesn't care about anybody, but that's bullshit." Reaching up, I unlocked and slowly opened the door.

He was sitting against the wall, looking me when I peeked out.

"Then why did he plan this?" Steven gave me a tired sigh and shook his head.

"He's a dick."

"You're a dick." I snapped. "That's not an excuse." He nodded.

"I know." Then he sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "But can ya think of a better idea?" He left me with that question, and it wasn't an easy one to answer. How do you test the loyalty of someone? How do you know for sure they wouldn't speak against you? I felt a little wave of understanding as I mulled it over. Billy's idea, in theory, was the best way. But it didn't make me feel better.

Standing slowly, Steven towered above me in the hall and I looked away as his eyes softened. I was still furious with him. I may have earned his trust, but he had lost mine. "For what it's worth, ya weren't the only one bein' tortured in that room." He murmured, turning down the hall. I frowned and shoved myself to my feet.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I yelled, stopping him before he got to the front door. He turned and cocked an eyebrow.

"Think about it, Harley. I'm in a room, watchin' some jackass scare the shit out of ya. There's only two things that can happen." He took a breath and walked back to me as he continued. "One: ya rat and Billy has no choice but ta get rid of ya. Two: I listen to ya scream until that fuck decided ya weren't gonna rat." I was stunned into silence. He had a point. It had been a lose-lose all around.

"I was pissed when ya passed out. But at the same time…" He rubbed the back of his head, avoiding my eyes. "…I was fuckin' relieved."

"Relieved." I hissed at him. "I puked on myself and passed out and you were relieved?" Steven let me snap at him and jam a finger into his shoulder.

"Zane put a gun to your head." He reminded me. "And ya didn't say shit." I thought about this for a moment, breathing slowly. "Ya stared death in the face and didn't look away." With a nod, he retreated towards the front door. "That girl I found in an alley three weeks ago…she couldn't do that."

"Yeah, but ya played hero for her." I murmured. A small smile lifted his lips.

"Because she was pathetic." He said gently. "You…" Steven sniffed and opened the door. "…you aren't pathetic."

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><p>He left and I stayed, retreating to the shower to scrub away the evidence of the day until my skin was raw. Then I settled into my recliner with a cigarette, crying silently as the sun set behind the shades.<p>

"Happy Birthday to me."

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><p><strong>...cleaning that up is gonna be...fun. What did you think?<br>Big love to Dancing-Pinky-Flower and xoShortee93 and of course, love to my faithfuls. =)**


	16. Nightmares

**Massive amounts of love to Shortee, Cherie, and Sparkly for the reviews!** **I got this chapter into my head and couldn't stop writing until I had it down. Ended up splitting it into two. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy. :)**

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><p>It took me a couple of months to sort out my feelings. There were a lot of them. Betrayal, rage, fear, sadness, and even pain. I had a few nightmares and I would wake up sweating, reliving my trial in a haze of tears. But those weren't the only nightmares. Something had awoken in me. A past that I didn't want to remember. Those nightmares didn't make me sweat or cry. They made me scream. For almost a week, I sat up at night, smoking more than I had in years. The nicotine kept me calm, and the smoke kept me awake.<p>

But, like I said, eventually I sorted through those feelings. With a few visits to the clinic under my belt, I was clear headed and logic started to fill in the chaos. In those weeks that I spent alone, working endless hours, I retreated into my own world. It was in that state that I rebuilt myself, thought through my problems.

What would make me feel better? That thinking led to a realization.

And a plan was born.

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><p>The tranquil part of winter had passed, ushering in the unforgiving snow and wind of Boston. I normally didn't mind snow, but trudging through it for ten blocks from home to work can change one's mind. That morning, it was still outside, letting the fluffy, white landscape sit peacefully as I stepped outside.<p>

Ever since my "test", just walking down the hallway in my apartment complex made me jumpy. At the slam of a door or a random cough, I would run to the exit, happy to be out in the open. Not that morning. I walked slowly, torturing myself, as I left the building. I was still very afraid; no one can forget trauma overnight. But I wasn't letting fear rule me today. Today was about much more than fear.

My boots, thankfully, handle well in snow. I had a point to make by walking, so I passed a bus without glancing up at the driver. He probably thought I was crazy for walking in the cold, because, damn, it was cold. Anyone else with half a brain was waiting at the bus stop. But not me. I trudged by with my eyes down, hands buried in my new black, winter coat. I would be warm enough for the journey I had to take.

By now, you can guess where I was headed. Bones' Bodyshop was the only place other than work and a grocery that I bothered walking to. But in the snow, it felt like a different journey. Like I would turn the corner and Narnia would be sitting where the rusted garage used to be. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case, and my heart picked up when I saw the familiar car graveyard.

As I neared, I worked to steady myself. What I was doing was, by all accounts, stupid. Any smart person would have rejoiced at their stay of execution and hurried on with life. But I never do things the easy way. Apparently, I like to kick a gift horse in the teeth.

My breath caught in my throat when I noticed the black Mustang parked against the fence. I hadn't planned on confronting Billy. He was unpredictable, like the weather, and I didn't think I would have to worry about him hanging around the shop. From what I'd gathered, he didn't like being there; so I'd been fairly confident he wouldn't be. But I shook my nerves into submission. No way was I backing down. I had to prove I wasn't made of jello; that Darley blood ran in my veins.

When I opened the fence, the gate screeched so loud, I nearly lost my footing in the snow. I was being brave Harley, but I was still scared Harley. Heart hammering in my chest, I shuffled my way inside, my breath escaping in white streams.

It was loud, so no one heard me step in the door. Drills drowned out my pulse as I walked through the front entrance, watching as faceless men worked on pieces of cars. Nothing was out of place to them; I was dressed like a man, so I probably didn't raise any alarms. I'd stuck with the usual jeans and boots, adding in my black coat and a black hat. I probably looked like a short, cat burglar in my duotone getup. And it allowed me all the way into the shop without anyone giving me a second glance. None of Bones' soldiers were in front. These were real mechanics, paid to do their job and see nothing.

The thugs were all in back. I use the term because it was the kindest one I have. As I quietly approached the open layout of my father's office, I glared at the men standing around his desk. They were monsters, called to do his bidding. But this wasn't about retaliation towards my father, or even Billy. They'd done what they thought was right. This was about showing them who I was, what I was made of.

"Hi." I said it loud to get their attention and the volume must have triggered an alert in the group. Suddenly, I had six guns trained at my face, yet I swallowed scared Harley and glared right back at them. I was done quivering like a milkmaid. Bones saw my red, chapped face and his expression slackened in surprise. I think Steven had been right about my father; he never seemed angry when I did something bold. He seemed to respect my courage, even if he detested my presence.

Speaking of Steven, he was the first to lower his gun. The moment he saw me, he had his gun pointed at the floor. Part of me wanted to smirk at him and another wanted to blush. Our relationship was a shattered mess, but my feelings for him survived, tucked away where I had hoped they'd stay. But the way he looked at me made those warm, fluttering memories rise to the surface. I hadn't wanted to see him, yet I rejoiced internally as I caught his eye.

"Give me a minute." Bones grumbled the phrase under his breath and the group dispersed, except for one figure.

Billy.

He stood front and center, shoulders squared, gun hanging at his side still gripped in his hand. For the first time, I gave my half-brother the glare he deserved. I let my anger and stubbornness burn through me as we stood, fixed on each other. Bones sat down in his chair and shuffled a few things around on his desk, busying himself while I waited. When it was clear he wasn't dismissing his eldest son, I strode forward, straight towards Billy.

It was like a game of chicken. The closer I got, the taller he seemed and harder my heart pounded. But I never looked away. When I was less than a foot from him, I sidestepped and walked up to Bones' desk. I wanted to burst out laughing from hysterical fear and run from the room, but I kept my feet planted on the floor, wiggling my toes inside my boots.

"I want a car." I was pretty abrupt and it created a large pause in which my father stared at me, blinking behind his dark frames. A warmth grew on the back of my neck and I knew Billy had gotten close. But his looming only increased my determination. I felt like a worthy opponent with him breathing down my neck.

"I want a lot of things. Doesn't mean I get 'em." Bones grunted back, clasping his hands in front of his face.

"Something decent." I added, refusing to listen to my aching chest.

"What did I say 'bout fuckin' shit up?" Billy's voice was in my ear, so close I felt his chest against my shoulder. Turning my head, I met his glare and didn't waver. Then, reaching into my coat, slowly might I add, I pulled out a brown sack. I dropped it on Bones' desk without looking, continuing to stare into my brother's blue eyes.

"That's fifteen hundred." I said coldly. Billy's brows flattened and his eyes turned towards the desk, freeing me from our staring contest to watch my father slide the bag across the surface. He opened it with raised brows. "I can't afford much, but you know I'll pay every penny." I sweetened the deal, playing to his honor. I was sure he'd heard of my loyal performance. Finally, he looked up over his glasses.

"I don't sell cars." A smirk twitched the corner of my mouth and Billy stood up straight beside me, his left bicep touching my right shoulder.

"Then I'm not buying one." I said carefully, eyeing the money in his hand. It had taken me a while to collect that kind of cash, especially when I had to pay for everything else. But my rent was free, so it hadn't been too difficult to stretch my paychecks. After he thumbed the ends of the bills for a while, Bones snorted.

"Get the Camaro." He said rotating in his chair and standing. Billy stood still for a moment, but Bones tossed him a glance and suddenly he was walking away. My father took my hard earned money and walked to his safe, turning the dial with concentration.

"Is Zane one of your men?" I asked suddenly, watching him plop the stack of cash inside before closing the thick door. He made his way back to his chair with a small shrug.

"Why ya wanna know?" _Yes. _I straightened and tugged the hat off my head, letting my hair appear from beneath. I'd gotten it cut, short. Pixie. The new length had made me cry at first, but it was a necessary change. No more old Harley. She wasn't welcome in my life. Bones took in my new look and an eyebrow lifted.

"Can I meet 'im?" My voice was changing as I gained confidence. I was imitating the tough men around me. I wanted to be like them, impervious. A growl interrupted, thundering from the front of the shop. Bones grinned when I turned at the sound.

"Billy worked on it himself." He purred. _Great._ Of course Bones would do that. Give me a car that meant something to his son. I took a deep breath to keep the bitter thoughts in my head away. "Let's take a look." My head snapped around as my father picked up a coat and started towards the idling engine. I followed with widened eyes and a squirming gut.

It was gorgeous. My breath was stolen from my lungs when I saw the 1993 Camaro sitting among the junkers out front. Billy was standing beside it, smoking angrily as I froze. It was dark red, custom painted, and gleaming with a pristine body. It looked brand new and I felt my head shaking before I even spoke.

"I can't take this." I said it with an apologies tone, glancing at Billy's face. He hissed smoke from his lips, watching me with a hard stare.

"You'll take what I give ya." Bones grunted, looking at me with an indifferent tilt of his head. I sighed and stepped forward, touching the paint with the very tips of my fingers. It would be the nicest thing I owned. Ever.

"Needs a rotation and new oil." Billy blurted as I stood at the hood. When I met his gaze, it was still harsh so I nodded quietly, looking back at the car.

"Have Zane grab a bottle from the back." Bones ordered. Billy's head shot up and he looked between Bones and I for a moment, then propped his cigarette in his lips and strode inside. When it was just the two of us, my father studied me for a moment. "That a boy's hair cut?"

"No." I said softly, slipping my hands into my coat pockets. Bones smirked and shook his head.

"Looks like it." With a genuine smile, I looked up at him.

"Thanks." Then we carried on in silence until Billy reappeared. But he wasn't alone.

Zane was a dirty blonde, his hair shoulder-length and scraggly at the ends. I cringed internally, realizing how similar he and Tim looked. It made my hands sweat with fear, but I didn't let it affect anything else. I remained calm as he followed Billy through the snow, bottle of oil in his hand. Putting my attention elsewhere, I focused on his eyes. Brown and wild. They evoked a hatred inside of me that I'd never thought possible. Someone needed to pay for the horror inflicted on me, for the nightmares that kept me up at night.

I needed to defeat my fears.

"Thanks." I said gently, reaching out to take the oil from his hand. He nodded casually, his eyes not even registering who I was. But instead of grabbing the bottle, I grabbed his wrist and lurched forward, bringing my knee up to ram it into his groin.

Zane fell to the ground with a winded grunt and Billy moved, reacting on instinct. But Bones held up a hand, keeping him at bay.

"HOLY FUCK!" Zane finally gathered the oxygen to yell and I shivered at the sound. It was a mixture of satisfaction and anger. I crouched down slowly, trembling over his body.

"When I was eleven, I woke up with a forty-year-old man in my bed." He gasped for air and looked into my face, his eyes suddenly alight with recognition. With a quick jab, I rammed my palm into his nose. My hand connected with something hard and I felt it give. It was an easy move, learned from a few minutes on the Internet, but it made him scream like I'd cut him in two. I continued as he gave wounded cries beneath me.

"No one touches me." I hissed. As I fumed, I realized tears had clouded my vision. Not from sadness, but fury. "No one." I stood slowly, content with the blood streaming from his nose into the snow around his head. As I looked up, it wasn't Bones or Billy that I saw.

It was Steven.

Standing in the entrance to the shop, he was watching me, face tight in an unreadable expression. Sniffing, I took a long breath, then butted Zane in the side with my boot. He moaned and glared up at me, hands over his crotch as his nose darkened.

My gut was silent. I felt numb, standing over a bleeding man. _Not just any bleeding man._ The man who had put a gun between my legs, opened his fly to terrorize me.

"Asshole." I muttered, turning away towards the car. It was still idling, as if waiting to whisk me away to safety. Billy was the only one in my path and his face was blank. By all accounts, he had put me through just as much pain and suffering as the idiot wallowing on the ground. But I couldn't punish him; not directly.

"Get 'em rotated." He murmured as I slid past him. I nodded silently and opened the driver's side, taking no time to adjust the seat before I drove from the lot.

I didn't look back. Not once.

* * *

><p>I had only been to her grave twice since the stone was set. It was barely a grave. Deb's body wasn't there; it was merely a tiny headstone with her name, marking a life that otherwise would have gone unremembered. Standing over it, I sighed a cloud of breath into the air. I don't know why I went there, but it was a quiet place and I had plenty of thinking to do.<p>

I'd never told anyone about being raped, in my whole life. And I had just spouted it in front of four people. It was liberating, but it was hard. It brought back the memories and I battled them, hugging my arms to my body in the growing wind. Repressing them again would be difficult and I closed my eyes, physically disgusted by the pictures in my head.

When I couldn't stand it anymore, I charged back to the Camaro and drove home.

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><p><strong>Love to my faithful! <strong>


	17. The turning point

I almost left again when I saw Steven's truck parked in the lot. The last thing I wanted was to explain my past, or relive the memory. I just wanted some peace. But as I pulled into the spot beside him, I saw his face and it made me stay. He wasn't angry, or sad. He was just sitting there, looking at me.

Before I had my door open, he'd walked around his truck to my side, standing with his hands deep in his pockets. As I settled on the ground, he opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a gloved hand.

"I don't know if I can forgive you or trust you again. And I'm still pissed at you." He closed his mouth and nodded, accepting this. That's when I let the floodgates go. Bottling up my emotions would only break me. I needed someone, anyone. Tears dibbled down my cheeks as I focused on steadying my voice. "And tomorrow I'll still be mad." His expression softened in understanding. "But, for now, can ya just—" I sniffled, struggling to maintain composure. As tough as I could be, I had a long way to go.

"Ya eaten yet?" Steven asked, changing the subject as I teetered on the edge of sobbing. I shook my head with another sniffle. Then, taking step forward, I buried my face in his jacket. His arms were around me in seconds, cradling and protecting me with their strength. "I'm in the mood for Chinese." He continued in a whisper, rubbing my back. I coughed a laugh into his shoulder and squeezed him closer.

"I'm so mad at you." I stuttered, laughing and crying through my words. Steven pressed his cheek into my temple. This was only the second time he'd ever hugged me, but it was comfortable and perfect. We fit like two pieces of a puzzle and I didn't want to ever let him go.

"I deserve it." He murmured. I sighed and turned my head, looking out past his shoulder at the red Camaro.

"Will you help me with something first?" I asked. We slowly parted and he wiped his jacket with a palm, smearing the tears over the black canvas.

"Depends." I cocked a brow and he grinned. "What?" With a hand, I gestured to the Camaro.

"I need to give this back." Steven nodded slowly. We both knew Billy had been working on the car himself. It wasn't right for me to take it. Suddenly Steven wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"I have an idea."

* * *

><p>I followed him in the Camaro, reading as many street signs as possible as we went. Our destination was clear across town, deep in Stokely, much further than I'd ever wandered. The snow had blanketed Boston, but only the larger roads had been plowed. As Steven turned into yet another, run-down neighborhood, I sighed at the slippery snow coating the asphalt. This car didn't handle well on the lack of traction and I gasped a few times as the wheels would slip, swerving on the snow.<p>

When he finally turned into a parking lot, I let out a sigh of relief. Much longer and I was going to crash this perfect car.

I was shocked at the building, once I inspected it. The condition wasn't much better than the one I lived in. The brick was littered with graffiti on the ground levels and the dumpster on the side was overflowing with garbage. Steven didn't get out of his truck when I rose from the Camaro, and I stepped up to the door, knocking on his window.

"Are you comin'?" I asked, hugging myself as a gust of wind blew snow in my face. He shook his head and opened the door a crack.

"This isn't my deal." I tugged it open further and he made a face, the cold air leaking into the warm interior of his truck.

"It was your idea." I snapped.

"But it won't mean as much if he knows that." Steven shot back, squinting at me as he pulled his jacket closed. Staring at each other for a moment, I chewed on my lip then rolled my eyes.

"What apartment?" I muttered, irritated that he was probably right.

"304." Steven answered with a smirk. With a shake of my head, I slammed the door and stomped through the snow. Even though I was slightly frustrated with him, it felt good to be back to our old ways. Being babied would feel wrong; I liked how he treated me. _Don't let him off the hook too easily._ My gut reminded me that I hadn't forgiven Steven. He'd fed me to the wolves when I had trusted him to protect me. But even after that, I was happy to have him around.

The front lobby of the building was a tiny, tiled area with little mail slots along the walls. Following the signs, I walked through the front and down a carpeted hall to the stairs. There was graffiti on almost everything. The place might have been decent once, but it had seen years of delinquents and damage. Clomping up two flights of stairs, I made my way down the third floor hall. I read the apartment numbers as I went, my pulse rising with each step. 307…306…305…

304.

I took a deep breath before I raised a fist, knocking on the wooden door. Nothing happened at first and the sounds of the apartments around me suddenly heightened. I was on full alert in this unknown place. I knocked again and finally a shuffling started towards the door.

"Fuck." Was muttered before the door swung open and revealed the occupant.

"Hi." I said with a nervous smile. Joey raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down.

"What are ya doin' here, Todd?" I took a deep breath and held out my hand.

"This is yours." Joey stared at my fist before he finally held out a palm. I dropped the Camaro's keys in it and studied him as his eyes grew wide. "Bones gave it to me, but Billy was workin' on it for you." His eyes shot up to my face.

"Billy was workin' on it for me?" I nodded and grinned a little at the childlike glee on his face. "What is it?" He asked quietly, running his thumb over the key. I shook my head.

"First, ya give me your keys." Instantly he was frowning and he retracted the hand to cling to his prize. I made a face. "I paid Bones fifteen hundred bucks for a car, so we're tradin'." Slowly, Joey thought this over, grinding his teeth. Then he shrugged and vanished for a moment.

"Whatever, my car's a piece of shit." I shoved my hands in my pockets. Suddenly, I wished I didn't have a conscience. Then I would still have a nice car. When Joey reappeared, he had his jacket on and a shoved a key in my hand. We walked together down the hall in silence, pattering down the stairs with only echoes to mark our presence.

Once we were outside, I knew it was only a matter of time before he'd know which car was his. I glanced at his face and it lit up like a kid's. Joey cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a holler before he shot across the sidewalk towards the Camaro. As he jumped around the car with ridiculous excitement, I found myself laughing and smiling. And I felt good.

I took my time coming up to the Camaro and Joey had circled it three times by the time I got there.

"Holy fuckin' shit." He was yelling. "This thing is fuckin' sick!" I chuckled and he looked at me, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "Shit, Todd." Then he lurched forward and lifted me off the ground, his embrace trapping my arms to my sides. After he squeezed me for a second, he lowered my feet to the ground and stepped away. I was blushing like crazy. My brother had just hugged me and I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't let myself. I'd done enough crying for a lifetime.

"Now which one's mine?" I asked softly, scanning the lot. Joey snorted and pointed, grinning from ear to ear.

"That beautiful mess, right there." A chipping, grey, 1981 Chrysler Imperial sat in a spot, a thin layer of snow covering the windshield. I sighed and approached with the keys, unlocking the driver's side. It truly was a mess. There were wrappers all over the floor and cigarette butts jammed into a makeshift ashtray in a cup holder. While I bent over to look inside, Joey grinned at me.

"She's breathtakin', huh?" I rolled my eyes and he flopped an arm around my shoulders. "Why the fuck would ya give that sexy piece away?" He asked, studying my face. I shrugged.

"I didn't feel right takin' it. It was for you." Joey smiled and clapped my back with a hand.

"Ya know what, Todd? You're kinda cool." I blushed and he messed my hat on my head, revealing the front of my new do. "WOAH!" He exclaimed, ripping the hat off completely. "Get in a fight with a lawn mower?" I laughed awkwardly.

"I needed a change." I said, running a hand through my pixie, black hair. Joey smirked.

"Ya think?" He snorted. Then his eyes changed, as if he had something to say, but he was keeping it inside. After a moment, he nodded to me. "Thanks."

"Sure." I whispered, looking shyly from his gaze. Then I slipped into the driver's seat of my new car, inserting the key and closing the door. With a knuckle, Joey knocked on my window and I lowered it with the crank.

"I like you, Todd." He stated sticking a finger inside the car. "I don't give a rats ass what Bill says." Some wouldn't be impressed with that proclamation, but it made my heart soar. I liked Joey and now, he liked me. "I owe ya a drink." I smiled wide, all of my sadness melting away. In a minute, my brother had cleared my mind, banished my despair.

"Okay." I managed to reply with a blush. Joey tapped the top of the car.

"Seriously, a fuckin' big drink." I put the car in gear as he backed away.

"Sure, Joey."

* * *

><p>I was in a better mood for the rest of the night. After Steven and I ordered in, I curled up in the recliner while he occupied one of the original lawn chairs. So far, we'd avoided any difficult topics, but as the night progressed, I felt the questions coming. I could tell by the way his face changed that he was done forgetting the elephant in the room.<p>

"We gonna talk 'bout what happened today?" He finally broke the silent pact, eyeing me from his chair. I shrugged and hugged my legs.

"Not much left ta say." I muttered. Oh but there was so much more.

"Harley…" He was using that tone, the one that made me feel like a child. Rolling my eyes, I dropped my legs so my feet touched the floor.

"Fine. What would ya like ta know? Do ya want ta know about the first time? Or maybe how many times I woke up with him on top of me? Or how about—"

"So getting mad is your answer?" He raised his voice to trump mine, sitting forward in his chair. I bit down on my jaw, angry at my vulnerability and the tears welling up in my eyes. "Ya think I wanna know 'bout that shit?" I let out a whoosh of air, trying my best to keep myself from crying again. I was goddamn tired of crying.

He let me calm down before I answered. It took a bit; lots of long, deep breaths before I finally felt the tears dissipate from my eyes and the ache to leave my chest.

"The day that prick put a gun between my legs…something happened." I whispered, remembering the flood of memories that had erupted at Zane's prodding. Closing my eyes, I tried to figure out how to explain myself. How to tell him what I felt, what I was going through, even though I barely understood it myself.

"I was raped a lot…for a long time." Just saying that out loud hurt. I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide, yet I remained seated, feet flat on the floor. But I couldn't open my eyes. Not yet. "I grew up with it, and it fucked me up." I swallowed as guilt started to seep into my gut. "So I did a lot of stupid shit, trying to become immune. I drank a lot…I used…I fucked a lot of guys." I shuddered at the last bit, humiliated at my confession. "But layin' there, on that table…" Finally, I opened my eyes to look at him. His face was sad but firm, like he was being strong for me. Tears leaked down my cheeks. "…I remember things I'd forgotten. Things I don't want to remember." Steven nodded a little, listening patiently even though I had nothing else to add. That was it.

"It made me mad. I needed someone to pay." I finished, wiping my face. Zane's bleeding nose and yells had been a moment of peace. But it had been short lived. The only long-term benefits, if any, rested in Billy and Bones' reactions. I was hoping that by standing up for myself, I had gained a little of their respect.

"If I had known…" Steven started and I could tell his anger was getting the best of him. He hissed an exhale from his nose and started again. "Zane's dead." I blinked and nothing happened. My heart didn't stop, my stomach didn't lurch. I merely looked at him. For once, something devastating hadn't brought me down, but lifted me up.

"Who killed him?" I asked numbly, hands on my knees in a statue's form. Steven breathed slowly, looking me in the eye.

"I did." That wasn't as easy to process. As much as I hated Zane, envisioning Steven as a murderer made my stomach hurt. "Bones had me do it."

"When?" At this point, I was trying to wrap my head around it. Bones had killed one of his men, for me?

"Less than an hour after ya left." Steven was being honest with me, almost painfully so. But that's one of the things I liked about him. He wasn't going to lie.

"Why?" With a single step, he moved from his chair and crouched in front of me.

"Why did Bones have Zane killed? Because Bones is proud and, regardless of his feelings, you're his daughter." It wasn't a stretch. Pride was a weird thing and it made men of little principle act above their quality. "Why did I ask ta pull the trigger?" My heart stopped as Steven continued, leaning in so his face was a foot from mine. "Cuz, regardless of what ya think, I care about ya, Harley. Against all of my instincts, I want to protect ya more than I want to protect myself."

I didn't really have anything to say, so I didn't speak. I let my actions speak for me.

Slowly, I raised my arms and encircled his head, gently pulling his face to mine. Our lips met softly, but I felt a wave of need ripple from my head to my toes. This man cared enough for me to kill. The appropriate reaction would have been horror. But I adored him. Through the residual sting of betrayal, I felt a pull to Steven that couldn't be broken. I grew more urgent, weaving a hand in his shaggy, blond hair. He reciprocated with enthusiasm, but I felt his restraint, the hesitation. It only made me hungrier, opening my mouth to tease his bottom lip with the tip of my tongue. His reply was frenzied, the kiss consuming as he parted his lips, tasting me with caresses of his tongue.

I didn't realize he'd lifted me until he set me down, my feet finding the floor. His arms had encircled my waist, just below my ribs and when he pulled away, his mouth was red, flushed from our passionate kissing. I bit my bottom lip, grinning.

"I should go." Steven said the words with conviction, but his eyes betrayed him. I sighed and nodded.

"Okay." I didn't want him to go. My body told me that I wanted him and for the first time I agreed. I was buzzing for him, willing and happy to have him inside me. It was a feeling I'd never truly experienced. Sure, I'd been aroused and consenting before, but never while sober. This was entirely new. This was about something other than physical gratification.

"Trust me…" He pressed his forehead to mine, panting lightly from our heated exchange. "I don't want to go." I took the opportunity to ensnare him into another kiss. But he only let it last a moment, groaning a little as he pulled away. "But I should go." Understanding his meaning, I nodded and released him.

"Okay." He put on his jacket in a smooth movement, shrugging it into place. Then he took my chin in his hand, running his thumb over my jaw.

"I'll see ya soon." _This will happen again._

That night, I slept like a stone and awoke with the sun, streaming through the window.

* * *

><p><strong>Holy moly, lots of happenings there. Love to my faithfuls. Hope you enjoyed. =)<strong>


	18. Joey

**I apologize profusely for my tardiness. I've just started an internship working 8-5 everyday, and let me say, it's not as easy as it sounds. I barely have enough energy to shower, let alone write. BUT NEVER FEAR! I forced myself to sit down this weekend after Sparkly left me a note requesting another chapter, so here it is! Big love to xoShortee93, Dreamer, and of course my dear Sparkly! And love to my faithfuls. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Of the three Darley men, Joey was the outlier. He never quite matched. Compared to his brother and father, he was smallest, his body was lanky and his face was narrow. Like me. When Billy could instill fear with a glance, Joey could make you laugh with a small twitch. His smile was natural and young, lacking in the intimidation that oozed from Bones or the superiority of Billy.<p>

Joey warmed to me more than either of the older men, and I can say with honesty that I loved him. It took time and plenty of strange conversations, but he became one of my best friends. We were close in age, so we fell into step with each other. I came to value my time with Joey more than a lot of things in my life. He would tell me stories, a lot of them about Billy. He was always trying to justify our older brother's coldness. Not blatantly. But each of those stories showed the pain and hardship our brother had endured just to survive, and it made my life look like a cakewalk.

It was through Joey that I understood Billy; and it was because of Joey that Billy accepted me.

* * *

><p>It was late, around one or two. I had worked a late shift and was lounging with my feet up, eating Chinese food from a takeout box. Lying flat on my back, it was no easy task to shovel the savory pieces of General Taos chicken into my mouth, but I managed. The television was blaring away, but all I could focus on was the box in my hand. It was a good night. I was tired, yet busting from a meal and comfy on my new Kmart couch.<p>

Then a knock exploded on my door. Startled, I dropped an especially saucy piece of my chicken onto my light blue shirt and I let out a whine, plucking the food from my chest.

"Who is it?" I called, irritated as I smeared the stain around.

"Santa Claus." A voice called, chuckling. Joey. His voice was playful, almost pleasant. So I scampered to the door and unlocked it, opening it a crack.

"What do ya want?" I asked, grinning as I stabbed my fork into my dinner. He was dressed like usual: wifebeater, huge jeans, and a jacket that engulfed his thin frame.

"A million dollars, a girl with massive tits, and…" His eyes studied my bored expression as I chewed. "…ya gonna let me in?" He said abruptly. With a snort, I opened the door.

"I was debating." I murmured. Joey strode inside and looked around.

"This place sure looks different." He muttered, running a hand over my recliner. "Ya bought a chair." His face broke out in a grin and he plopped in it, making the defective footrest creak. I chuckled and nodded with a small smile.

"And a couch." I added, fishing another piece of chicken from the box in my hand.

"Nice work, Todd." He was so relaxed it felt as if we'd known each other for much longer than a couple of months. I'd only seen Joey a few times and yet I felt more comfortable around him than almost everyone else.

He pulled a book from under his butt, and eyed the stack sitting nearby. I'd picked up a few from the library in hopes of entertaining myself during the long hours between shifts.

"Teachin' yourself ta read?" He said with a smirk, flipping through the pages of the novel, effectively losing my place. I snorted softly and shook my head at his goofy expression.

"Ya know, I wasn't always a mess." I joked. Honestly, I'd been identified as gifted when I was in the fourth grade. But being good at math had meant very little in the grand scheme of my life. Joey laughed and tossed the book with the others, standing in a swift lurch.

"I gotta use the can." He announced with a sniff, rounding the corner into the hall. I laughed lightly. No matter what, Joey could always pull a smile from me. "Then we're leavin'." He added, clamoring around in the bathroom. I froze in place.

"Leavin' for what?" He didn't bother closing the bathroom door so I could hear him as he unzipped his fly. I pattered into the kitchen to ditch my food and avoid the awkward sounds that would surely follow.

"I'm takin' ya out." Joey called. After a flush, I walked back into the hall, waiting outside the doorway.

"Wait wh—" Poking his head out into the hall, he cut me off.

"Change your shirt." He said with a grin, eyeballing the smear on my chest.

"Where are we going?" I sighed the words harder than I intended, but Joey didn't notice, side-stepping me to flop back into the recliner.

"Change your goddamn clothes and I'll fuckin' show you."

* * *

><p>It was definitely a dive. Unlike the Four Roses, the Pine was a tiny hole in the wall off of C Street. I'd been there once or twice before, it wasn't in Stokely, so I wasn't all that impressed when Joey pulled into the lot.<p>

"The Pine?" I asked, fidgeting with the black halter hanging off my neck. I hadn't worn anything besides t-shirts in a while, so my skin felt strange exposed. My arms had goosebumps from the cool night, and the wedges on my feet were precarious in comparison to my big, black boots. Thankfully, Joey hadn't complained when I'd appeared in jeans.

"Yeah, s'alright." Joey shrugged, lighting a cigarette while he stood from the Camaro. I rolled my eyes and followed, rubbing my arms.

"Don't want anyone ta see us together?" I was only half kidding, and Joey stopped midway across the lot, hissing smoke into the air.

"Aw Todd, don't be that way." He grinned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, walking us towards the entrance. "This place is closer to ya place, that's all."

The bar was packed, as expected. It was a Friday night after all; the night Boston drank itself to sleep after a long week's work. No one gave us a second glance inside the door and, I must admit, that was a comfort. Without anyone to judge us, Joey and I sat at the bar and ordered a couple of beers, joking and talking.

"The old man threw a fit when he saw me drivin' the Camaro 'round." He randomly spouted, grinning as he drained the dregs of his Samuel Adams. I hadn't had a drink for a while, so I was warm and giggly, letting the relaxing effects take over.

"Shit." I said, stifling an outburst of giggles. "What'd he do?" Joey laughed and shook his empty in the air until the bartender appeared with another.

"He thought I took it from ya, jumped ya or somethin'. Fucker was ready ta break my kneecaps for lyin'." The beer in my throat when down the wrong way. Coughing, I leaned over the bar and tried to regain my composure with painful breaths.

"Jesus Joey—" He shrugged and clapped me on the back.

"Bill wasn't gonna let 'im, relax Todd." Taking a swig, he stared behind the bar. "Asshole doesn't realize how little it would take for Bill ta…" He sighed and shook his head. I swallowed, focusing on my breathing before I attempted taking another drink. "He just pushes." Joey finished, taking a long pull.

"So how did ya convince him?" I eventually asked. He grinned.

"His guy, Steve, told 'im he'd been there when ya gave me the car." Thank goodness I wasn't in the middle of a sip. My stomach turned to ice and I was suddenly very still.

"What did he say?" Joey shrugged.

"That ya wanted ta trade cars cuz Bill was workin' on—" I rubbed my short hair and shook my head.

"No no. Bones. What did Bones say?" He took another swig and pressed his lips together, as if trying to remember.

"Uh…nothin'. I don't think. He just got real quiet and told me and Bill ta get lost." I nodded quietly, but had the sudden urge to run to a payphone. My heart was beating a million miles per hour. Steven had pretty much admitted to being alone with me. As I opened my mouth, Joey slipped from his bar stool.

"Hold that thought, Todd. Nature calls." I nodded and took a drink, biting a lip as he meandered through the crowd. He paused at a table to chat up a few women, jutting his hips and leaning over the table to offer a light. Drumming my nails on the bar, I wished he'd hurry. I felt like I was behind, that Steven could be dead in a ditch somewhere and I didn't know it.

When Joey finally managed to disappear into the back, I focused on finishing my beer.

"Small world, ain't it?" At first, the voice meant nothing. I turned my head to respond, but halfway through the movement, I froze. His stink gave him away. I didn't know his name. I didn't even remember his face necessarily. But I remembered him. Beefyfingers.

"What makes ya say that?" I grunted quietly and took a sip of my beer, praying Joey was truly taking a leak, and not getting blown in a stall. His smell was thicker than I recalled. Then again, I'd been wasted and packed in warehouse of sweaty people when he'd mounted my leg. Beefyfingers touched my wrist with a pointer, looking into my face with a coy smile.

"I was just thinkin' how fuckin' hot you are, and how much I'd love ta take ya home." Then he leaned in, his stubble grazing my cheek. I flinched away and sank my nails into the knees of my jeans. My thought was, maybe if I ignored him, he'd go away. "But then I recognized ya and realized, I have taken ya home." Vomit prickled the back of my throat and I closed my eyes.

"You're confusin' me with someone else." It wasn't an unfathomable situation. My hair was different, my body was different, and I wasn't dressed like a whore. I was a very different person. His laugh sent foul air across my nose and I went rigid, holding my breath until it was safe to inhale.

"Nah. Wanna know how I know?" If it was possible, he moved closer and I shivered in revulsion. "I remember your lips." I swallowed and caught the bartender's eye, hoping he'd interfere with what was clearly not a welcome conversation. He merely glanced at my companion and looked away, filling another beer from the tap. "Can't forget a mouth like that, 'specially when it's been wrapped around my dick." Bile churned from deep inside my gut, but I swallowed and finally met his gaze head on.

"Fuck off." His face lost a degree of amusement and he set his forehead in determination.

"How much it gonna take?" My hands shook as I climbed down from my chair. Joey or not, I was leaving.

"I said fuck off." I snapped, heading for the exit. Humiliation and anger had me trembling like a leaf. I wasn't just mad at the asshole at the bar, I was pissed at myself. He was a reminder of what I had been, what I was. I was a filthy, pathetic whore.

A hand closed around my wrist and I tugged, whirling around.

"Come on, how much?" He was growling at me, squeezing on my arm.

"I'm not a hooker." I feebly hissed the words at him, twisting in an attempt to free myself.

"HEY!" My stomach flooded with warmth when I heard Joey's voice in the crowded bar. "Let 'er go, asshole." He stepped up to Beefyfingers and snarled, pushing the man's bicep. My wrist was freed, but he didn't let up exactly. Turning a finger towards Joey's face, he gave me a look of irritation.

"How much he payin'?" My chest tightened and my lungs refused to allow a single breath. "Your boyfriend know about your little sideshow?" He bellowed. Joey shot me a quick puzzled look before stepping chest to chest with his opponent.

"Watch ya mouth, pal. You'll be sorry." Beefyfingers snorted and got in Joey's face, breathing heavily with what had to be a lethal odor.

"Yeah? Well, I met your girl couple months back. And I paid her ta suck me and fuck me." Gritting my teeth, I was burning with shame when Joey sprang without warning. His tall body moved incredibly fast, blitzing the stunned man and taking him to the floor in a heartbeat. The bar erupted in a buzzing, excited roar and I was shoved out of the way so others could watch. I tried to claw my way through the crowd, but all I could do was listen to the grunts and cries of the two men rolling around on the floor. It was only a few moments, I'm sure, but it felt like forever as I pushed and squeezed through in vain to my brother.

When I finally did see him, he was standing, his shirt ripped and his mouth bleeding. But he was alone. Beefyfingers was on the floor, arms loosely crossed over his head. To say he was out of breath was an understatement. Judging by the wheezing, Joey had probably broken several of the man's ribs. My brother took a step back and I touched his arm.

"Joey, let's go." He looked into my eyes and saw my fear, my worry, and he softened, nodding as he ran his tongue over a split in his lip. Then, he leaned over and spit blood from his mouth onto the man below.

"She ain't my girl, ya fuckin' cocksucker. She's my goddamn sister." Instead of beaming, I gently grabbed his elbow. My pride was roaring from somewhere inside my chest but at that moment, I just wanted to leave. We parted the crowd in a few strides and I practically ran across the lot to his car.

"We need to get out of here before someone calls the cops." Joey shrugged on his jacket, gingerly touching his lip.

"No one's gonna call the fuckin' cops, Todd. Chill the fuck out." He unlocked the car and flopped inside, groaning slightly and checking himself in the rearview mirror. I knew he was right; in Southie, you didn't rat. You kept your mouth shut and went about your business, playing dumb to any and all cops. You only called the cops when you were dying. Joey licked his lip a couple times and snorted at the state of his shirt.

"I'm sorry…" I trailed off, watching him grin at his own reflection.

"Sorry for what?" He laughed, cocking an eyebrow. "I love doin' that shit."

"Fuck." I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning my head back on the seat. "Shit." I started to shake again, Beefyfingers' words coming back to haunt me.

"What was he talkin' about anyway?" Joey said slowly, watching as I tried to hold it together. I ran my nails over my face, wishing I could claw away my past.

"He was talkin' about the night Deb died." I managed to murmur. He didn't move, or even breathe. Joey sensed the emotional limbo I was in, and he knew to just wait. When I didn't offer anything else, he started the car and pulled into the street.

* * *

><p>"Disaster follows ya, doesn't it?" Joey muttered the words as I forced a damp cloth towards his face.<p>

"You're the one who jumped the guy. I was content ta just leave." I snapped back, poking his forehead with a finger. "Recall that ya 'love doin' this shit'." He made a face and took the cold cloth, settling it on his swollen lip.

"Yeah well…ya woulda done it too. The look on ya face, I needed ta deck the guy." I shook my head and smiled, oddly content with his violence on my behalf.

"Thank you." I whispered quietly, sitting on my sofa beside him. Joey shrugged and grinned at me from under the towel.

"Sure."

"For what ya said too." I added, unable to look at his eyes.

"What'd I say?" He said with a sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. My face flushed and I picked at my nails.

"Ya know…" I snuck a glance at him and he was staring at me, forcing me to blush even further. "…what ya called me." Joey frowned and sat up, taking the towel off his face.

"What, my sister?" I nodded and focused on my knees, embarrassed I'd mentioned it. "That's what ya are, aren't ya?" I looked back up at him and smiled.

"Well yeah." Joey snorted and threw the towel at me.

"Gettin' all sappy on me, Todd. Quit." I laughed and threw the rag back, and he dabbed his lip again. After a few minutes, I curled up on the sofa and hugged my knees.

"What was it like, growin' up with your family?" He shrugged and flopped back.

"What family? I had Billy. That was it. He raised me." Chin on my knees, I watched as he stared at the ceiling.

"I remember holdin' Billy's hand, man. Him wakin' me up in the mornin', makin' me put on my shoes, shit like that. He was ten when I started kindergarten but he was so much older than that really." I remembered Deb doing the same things and the sting of tears started in the corners of my eyes, but I easily ignored it.

"He sounds like a good brother." I said gently, hugging my legs a little harder. Joey glanced at me and sighed.

"He's more than my brother. He was my father too."

"Must have been nice, havin' someone love ya that much." There were so many nights where I wished I had a father, but I could never say that to Joey. Not when he'd lacked both parents.

"Ha." Joey said with a grin. "Billy never says love. He would rather die than admit ta lovin' anyone." I smiled, put at ease by this fact. "And I'm sure he had his moments when he hated me." Joey said, chuckling lightly. "I was always followin' him, even when I was old enough ta be on my own. Drove him crazy." I loved the imagery and I found myself laughing with him. When we'd both had our fill of giggling, Joey grew serious and looked me dead in the eye.

"He followed ya a few times." A lump caught in my throat and I blinked.

"Followed me?" He nodded and rubbed his nose.

"To school. I think he was curious." I stared into the wall across the room, utterly stunned. "Then he found ya at some party, piss drunk, and he was fuckin' furious." I buried my face and felt humiliation creep over me, just like at the bar.

"I know, I remember."

"Nah, you were passed out or somethin'." I swallowed, a million questions bubbling in my stomach. "It really messed with him." Frowning, I loosened the vice grip on my legs.

"Why?" Joey shrugged.

"Cuz he hated ya the second ya were born, but then he sees this little kid." He looked into my eyes. "A little kid that looked just like me." Sighing he stared back at the ceiling. "And that fucked his head up. He wanted ta hate ya, but ya made it impossible."

"Sure felt real ta me." I whispered. To my surprise, Joey laughed.

"Of course it did! Bill's got no problem fakin' shit. He can melt paint with his glares, real or not." He laughed again and calmed the feeling of sadness in my gut. "I've gotten screamed at real good once or twice and thought he was gonna kill me."

"That makes the two of us." I murmured, recalling my several run-ins with the furious drug lord.

"It would take a lot for him ta do that." Joey said softly. "'Specially after ya got sick." I blinked in confusion.

"Why?" He stood up and tossed the rag into my kitchen.

"Cuz he was here the whole fuckin' time. He thought ya were gonna die." I stared and my mouth opened in amazement.

"But I thought Bodie—" Joey shook his head, flopping back on the couch.

"Nope. Bodie freaked the fuck out when ya started pukin'. Thought he'd get blamed, so he called Bill."

Suddenly my dream came back full force, the voice booming in my ears. It hadn't been Bodie; it had always been Billy. He'd been there, trying to shoot me up when I'd started hallucinating.

"Why? Why would he stay?" Joey snorted.

"Ya kiddin' right?" When I didn't answer, he shot up and scooted closer to me on the sofa. "Todd, when I got here, ya were white as a ghost, cold, and barely movin'. Bill looked like he hadn't slept in days and he'd smoked nearly two packs on an empty stomach." Tears of shock were welling up in my eyes. "Did ya know my mother's an addict?" I nodded slowly, recalling Stephanie's face from my memory. Joey nodded.

"She and Bones, they weren't much ta begin with. He gets her knocked up when she was eighteen, she has Bill and vanishes." He showed no signs of pain at the story and I listened carefully, suppressing my urge to ask questions. "Then, four years later, she appears and she's clean, tellin' Bones she's a changed woman, wants ta see her son. She's there for three months before he knocks her up again, this time with me." Joey paused then, his eyes glimmering with something unsaid. "Bill was four, so he remembered some stuff. Her hair. The way she smiled." Then the glimmer was gone and Joey looked like he was reading a grocery list once again. "Then she found out about Deb and she went back ta usin'." He took a deep breath and sighed it out. "When she was eight months pregnant with me."

"Oh Jesus…Joey." I started to cry, I couldn't help it. No wonder Billy hated my guts.

"Don't do that." He said, pushing my forehead with a palm and knocking me over on the couch. It startled me enough to end my tears and Joey chuckled, grabbing my elbow to wrench me upright.

"I turned out fine, stupid. See?" Gesturing to his chest, he opened his jacket and I shook my head, smearing the tears on my face. Then he dropped his arms and shoved my shoulder. "My point was, my ma was a junkie. Bill loved her, probably. But she chose ta shoot up instead of raisin' us." Messing my hair, Joey grinned. "You on the other hand, decided ya'd rather die than use one last time." I blushed a little and he poked my arm.

"So, when Bill wanted ta hate ya, he couldn't, cuz ya fought for what ya wanted. And he respects that."

* * *

><p>I could still hear Joey's words hours later, after he'd left and the sun had started to rise. I hadn't slept; I couldn't really settle down to do so. All I could think about was his stories, and then all I could think about was Steven. Despite my night out with Joey, I had worried subconsciously for hours, wishing I knew where he lived so I could hunt him down.<p>

So, as the sun rose to greet the day, I was trudging through the lot of slush in front of Bones' Bodyshop, praying they opened early.

* * *

><p><strong>More….soon? Hopefully. Maybe. Probably. …yeah.<strong>


	19. Everything Good

I couldn't have looked as determined as I was, slipping in the muddy slush towards the shop. I probably looked comical. But when I stepped inside the dark cave of a building, I set my face in a fierce glare. Maybe it was the temperature, well below zero that morning, or maybe it was the five times I'd nearly fallen walking from my car, but I had a little bundle of anger growing in my chest. Nothing was going to put me down without a fight.

"Hey sexy." Rick swooped around me without missing a beat of his stride, grinning to himself as I whirled my head to face him. He continued into the darkness and I quickly picked up after him.

"Where's Bones?" Instead of answering, he kicked a toolbox, letting it bang loudly throughout the space. I flinched a little, but remained firm in my expression. "Rick, is he here?" I peered towards Bones' office, but it was dark. Suddenly Rick cut off my line of sight, looming over me as he rubbed his gloved hands together.

"Just me, sweetheart." His smile was intentionally frightening. But I didn't play his game.

"When does he get in?" Rick reached out with a finger and stroked it down my cheek, catching his lower lip in his teeth. Without even a blink, I batted his hand down. "You don't scare me, Rick. When will he be here?" For once, I honestly wasn't scared. With Bones having Zane killed and Joey jumping Beefyfingers, I felt pretty invincible.

"He gets here when he gets here. He's the fuckin' boss." Rick grumbled, turning away to peel back the sheet of plastic. Giving a frustrated sigh, I followed. I hadn't ever seen the interior of the shop before, and I was immediately impressed with its size. It looked like a sizable building on the outside, but on the inside, it looked massive. Cars were parked in a large row, and parts were strewn on the floors and various workbenches. Unlike the outdoors, the mechanic's floor had a massive space heater that made it uncomfortable in my coat in a matter of moments.

"Why are you the only one here?" I asked, watching as Rick shed his jacket and threw it on a hook. He was impressively built; I can admit that without shame. His shoulders rippled with strength as he lifted his arms to strip a hoodie next from his body. Those muscles continued down his back and even I felt my heart skip when his t-shirt pulled up to reveal his bare skin. Rick was cut.

"Cuz I'm in charge." He muttered over his shoulder, messing his hair with a thick work glove. I frowned and crossed my arms, determined to keep my coat on, regardless of the sweat beading on my skin.

"What about Steven?" Rick snorted and started towards a beat up station wagon, wrenching the hood upwards with a loud screech.

"What about 'im?" Moving forward in even steps, I peered at him as he bent into the car.

"I thought he was in charge." Rick stopped and gave a small, dry laugh, then straightened to loom over me once again.

"He tell ya that?" He purred, propping one elbow on the open hood flap. His bicep nearly hung at my eye level, and I forced myself to glare at his face and not his impressive bulk.

"No, but ya sure listened to him like he was." Rick laughed again and licked his lips, hiding an angry sneer. Leaning forward he growled into my face.

"Steven's on borrowed time, hear me?" I jut out my jaw and leaned closer, letting my fear fuel my anger.

"What the hell does that mean?" His eyes burned into mine and his gaze swept across my face, resting on my lips before finding my eyes again. He was a predator in everyway, his study making my skin prickle under my jacket. He wanted to devour me and destroy me at the same time, perhaps by the same method.

"Just watch it." He snarled, tilting my chin with the push of a finger.

"Where is he?" I hissed back, pushing his finger away with a palm. Rick grinned and with sudden strength, grabbed my bicep and ripped me closer.

"He ain't here princess, and that's what matters. It's just you 'n me." My stomach turned but I knew better. He couldn't touch me…could he?

"Careful, Rick." I muttered. "Know what happened ta the last guy who threatened me?" It was a cocky statement, but it made his eyes flash with thought.

"Hey." We both looked towards the plastic with surprised faces. Standing in the entrance, leaning against the frame, was Billy. "He in yet?" His eyes settled on me instead of Rick. My arm was released and I rubbed the tender spot, glaring over my shoulder.

"Nah, he and Steven are in Charlestown." Rick answered, propping his elbow on the open hood. I let out a silent sigh of relief while Billy rubbed his nose and sniffed.

"Who is it?" My brother growled, irritated, it seemed, to not know his father was on the other side of the city. Rick shrugged.

"Irish, probably." Billy nodded and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it in the uncomfortable silence. When he'd taken a lengthy drag, he gave me a once over and nodded in my direction.

"Why are ya here?" He grumbled. Rick grabbed my chin and I smacked his hand, taking a step away.

"She came ta see me." He teased, laughing as I glared at him. "She missed me." Billy didn't react so I crossed my arms in defiance.

"I was lookin' for Bones. He wouldn't tell me where he was." I said, pretending Rick wasn't standing right behind me. Billy took another drag and hissed it out, watching from the doorway. Then he stood straight and nodded to me.

"Let's go." I frowned in confusion, but obeyed. It was better than the alternative of being stuck alone with Rick.

He didn't wait for me to catch up, so I trailed a good eight feet behind Billy out to the lot. When he finally did stop, he hissed smoke through his lips with a frown on his face.

"Why ya lookin' for Bones?" I shrugged, digging my hands into my pockets.

"I wasn't…really." He blinked and I shrugged again, my pulse skyrocketing in anxiety. "I was lookin' for Steven." His brow slackened but Billy said nothing, taking a drag as he studied my face. The impulse to twitch and play with my hands was overwhelming, but I managed to stand still. "He's a friend." A smirk lifted a corner of his lips, but he was silent, turning to start towards the gate. His pace was slower than normal, so I took the hint to walk along side him.

"What happened ta Joe's face?" He implored with a low grumble, hissing white smoke into the freezing air. I hid a smile, recalling Joey's busted lip and goofy grin.

"He hit some guy at the Pine." Billy sniffed, revealing a small smile that vanished the second I saw it.

"For what?" I nervously swiped at hair that wasn't there any longer, hoping I could deflect the question in one statement.

"The guy was bothering me." I murmured. This didn't impress him and his ever-present frown grew on his forehead.

"Joe isn't for doin' ya dirty work." My stomach hurt and I bit a lip. As Billy reached his car, which was closer than mine, he circled around to the driver's side. Watching him, I felt an impulse rise under my skin. Where was my backbone? Where was the girl that kneed a man in the crotch for touching her? I wasn't going to win Billy's respect with humble silence. I needed to stand up for myself.

"I didn't ask him to, ya know." He froze gripping the handle of the door. "He just did it." Billy stared at me, propping his cigarette in his lips. Hands in my pockets, I passed the Mustang towards my own car. "Sometimes people do nice things without being asked." I added under my breath. _Like give Joey back the car you'd worked on for him. _My boots crunched in the icy slush and I focused on remaining upright as long as Billy was in sight.

"Hey." His voice caught me off guard and I nearly fell. Looking back at him, I only blinked in response. "Don't fuckin' hang around here alone." He ordered, opening his door in a swift movement. "'Specially with fuckin' Rick." As he muttered the rest, he slid inside his car and it roared to life. Even as he ripped away with an angry growl, I smiled after him. Billy might not like me yet, but he didn't hate me.

And that was a start.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hi, it's Harley. Umm….I went to the shop today and uh, you weren't there. Uh. …. Can you stop by? It's nothing serious, I just wanna make sure you're ok. Not that you aren't! I just… I miss you…. You don't have to call me back. Umm….yeah. Bye."<em>

"Graceful as a flying brick." I muttered, clicking my little, prepaid cell closed. I didn't know how to rationalize my protective instincts over Steven. He was a full-grown man, and a strong one at that, but I needed to see him. Bones had gotten wind of our…friendship, and I felt like doom awaited me at any moment. With Steven, I couldn't allow that. He was there for me when no one else was; he truly was one of my only friends. Regardless of how our relationship had changed since then, I couldn't let anything happen to him because of me.

Not because of me.

The rest of the night, I paced like a caged animal, watching the sun slowly descend in the sky and wash the city in an orange glow. I knew he could very easily never get my message, that he could be like most men and disregard voicemail altogether, but I waited nonetheless.

The longer I waited, the worse my imagination became. He'd spent the day with Bones, alone. Granted, it'd been a few days since Steven had admitted witnessing my voluntary gift to Joey, but the opportunity was there. It wouldn't be hard for Bones to ditch a body in Charlestown; it was rough, just like Southie.

But Charlestown wasn't famous for gangs; it was famous for bank robbers. The only semblance of a gang left was the old Irish mobsters. The aging men still lurked in the assorted businesses in the northern slum of the city, and it wasn't uncommon for them to drop a man or two…or three. But they'd mostly calmed, backing the younger criminals and bullying their way into the profits.

All of this, I'd learned from just listening to gossip. However, from this morning, I could assume one more trade of the Irish mob. Guns. That was the only thing that Bones had interest in besides Billy's drugs, and the Irish were probably the only suppliers running this close to Stokely. Now that I knew this, it sort of made sense. A city full of robbers needed guns.

When it was pitch black outside, I settled into my chair and chewed my nails until I fell asleep. Cell phone in hand, shoes on, I was curled up on the lopsided recliner when a knock woke me like an atomic bomb. Running haphazardly to the door, I threw it open without even looking to see who was there. I knew who it was and it took all of my self-control to not hurl myself at him.

"Ya said ta come over, so I figured…" Steven was exactly how I remembered him, not a single part out of sorts. Unable to form an appropriate response, I simply stepped forward and snaked my arms into his jacket. Wrapping them around his warm torso, I hugged him until I was engulfed in his scent.

"Well hi." He laughed lightly, stroking my hair. "Ya weren't kiddin' about missin' me, huh?" I shook my head against his chest, rubbing my nose in his shirt.

"Nope." I squeezed a little harder and he just let me hold him, his big hand cradling the back of my head. After a few moments, I loosened my grasp and looked up at him, smiling. "Hi." At first, he gently stroked my chin, but then his expression fell into concern.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" I blinked, startled to find that he was right. I'd never cried out of happiness; then again, I'd never cared about someone like this before either. He stepped me into the apartment and closed the door as I swiped the back of my hand over my cheeks.

"I was worried, I guess. Sorry." I murmured quickly, blushing despite the smile on my face.

"Worried why?" He sounded stern, tilting my jaw to look into my eyes. "What have ya been up to?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Not for me, for you." His face creased in a frown and he shrugged off his jacket in a smooth motion.

"Don't worry about me." He murmured, flopping his coat on the recliner. Then, spreading his arms, he looked me in the eye. "I'm fine." I sensed his lack of honesty, and I remembered Rick's words, so I held back the urge to believe him.

"So Bones had no problem with ya seein' me on your own time?" I put my hands on my hips, my face only softening when he closed his eyes and groaned.

"Who told ya?" He muttered, moving to the couch and slumping to the cushions.

"Joey." I said, sitting beside him. "Are you fuckin' crazy?" I added, shoving his knee to emphasize my distress.

"This comin' from you?" Steven said with a snort, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. I pouted silently but he didn't give in. He took deep breaths, rising and falling in the silence. Finally, I surrendered to my need and I pressed my cheek to his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his broad chest.

"He know?" His hand moved up my back, resting on hip.

"Probably."

"But he didn't say anything."

"Nope." I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I could stay in that moment forever.

"Rick did." Steven tensed immediately, sitting up and looking into my face.

"When did ya see Rick?" He growled.

"When I went lookin' for you this morning. He was there—" Steven's expression froze.

"Alone?" I shrugged and his hands flew to his face. Groaning he smeared his fingers over his cheeks.

"It was fine." I sighed. Steven grabbed my shoulders.

"Harley, that's like playin' with a loaded gun. Rick is fuckin' dangerous." I rolled my eyes at his tone. It was that same one, the chiding parent.

"Steven, ya lost the right ta be overprotective when ya let my brother kidnap me and torture me." I snapped, ripping out of his grasp and striding towards the kitchen.

"Goddamn it, Harley." He called after me, but I was too mad to stop. I opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves. What I was looking for, I had no clue. His footsteps told me he'd followed, and I could sense him leaning in the doorway.

"I'm not afraid of fuckin' Rick." I hissed, yanking a can of pop off of the shelf and letting the door thud closed.

"Clearly." He said with a soft chuckle. Relenting, I turned around and leaned against the fridge. "But ya should be." Steven added, standing off the frame to approach slowly.

"Steven, I was worried about Bones killin' you and you **like** me. Think about what he'd do if Rick—" I didn't get to finish. He swooped in on me and captured my mouth in his, ending all arguments I could have made to my safety. My eyes fluttered closed and his arms folded me to his body. The kiss was long but soft. He memorized my lips with his own and I burned the feel of him into my brain. When we separated, I realized I hadn't taken a breath and I panted with a silly grin.

"Can ya do me a favor?" He purred softly, running his thumb over my red, lower lip.

"What?" My arms hung uselessly at my sides, the long forgotten pop dangling precariously near my hip.

"Stay away from the shop unless ya know I'm there." Rolling my eyes, I surrendered with a smile.

"Fine."

"I'm not kiddin'." He added, gripping my chin in two fingers. I sighed and nodded.

"What is so bad, I can't be there alone?" I asked, setting the pop on the counter so I could wrap my arms around his waist. Suddenly, his eyes were sad and he cupped my head in both hands.

"Not what, who. We are bad men, Harley." My smile faded at the look in his eye and I kissed him quickly.

"Not you." Steven closed his eyes and held my head to his chest.

"Especially me." I pulled away gently, reaching up to touch his cheeks. When he returned my gaze, I kissed his lips. At one time, I couldn't trust anyone. Then I had trusted Steven. He wasn't a white knight, his lack of interference had already proven that, but he wasn't a villain. I knew villains; I'd lived through my share of nightmares. Steven was my reward, my reprieve.

"Ya know…" Running my fingers over his stubbly cheeks, I shrugged. "You're pretty sweet for a bad man." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, he made a face and snatched my hands away.

"Sweet?" I wrinkled my nose and stifled a laugh.

"Like sugar. Sugary Steven." His lip lifted in a sneer and he shook his head.

"No." My mouth contorted in a fit of silent laughter.

"Sugary sweet Steven." A glint of mischief flashed through his eyes and suddenly he attacked, pinning me flush to the refrigerator while his mouth went to work against mine. None of his previous reservations were there; he groaned as he invaded with his tongue, tasting and taking. My chest burned with delight as I threw my arms around his neck. But he wasn't done. The moment I gasped for a breath, he trailed from my lips to my throat, nibbling and sucking.

"Ok, not sugary." I whispered, weaving my fingers in his hair as he purred a laugh into my neck.

"Fuck no." He growled. His hands vanished from my hips and wove around to my backside where he grabbed both cheeks. My body erupted with shivers. I'd never felt anything like this.

Ever.

I felt like a tuning fork, ringing from head to toe. Every other sexual experience in my life had been dulled, painful, or lacked emotion. This, however, was exactly the opposite. It was eliciting a response from my body that I'd never felt. The very surface of my skin was on fire, tingling from the slightest graze and the potential of more made my knees weak.

"Stay with me." I whispered, panting the words into his ear. "Please don't leave."

"Harley…" His voice was different, softer yet deeper. He was hesitating.

"Nooo." I whined. He chuckled through his nose and kissed my lips, parting them with quick darts of his tongue. "Stay with me." I moaned grasping his head in my hands. That was the last time I had to ask. Steven opened his mouth to devour mine and we stumbled out of the kitchen. My hands tangled in his hair as he straightened, my toes unable to touch the floor. With his arms around me, I had never felt so small. But it wasn't a bad feeling. I was surrounded with warmth and comfort; I felt safe.

My body comprehended this with a shudder and Steven stroked my face, easing his pace.

"You ok?" He asked gently, running his thumb over my cheekbone. Kissing him softly, I clung to his neck.

"Don't let me go."

It was an odd request; I will be the first to admit it. Looking back, I don't know exactly why I said it. But there were so many invisible scars on me then, scars that have since faded.

He moved back and sat on the couch, taking me with him every step of the way. I was cocooned in his smell, his skin. Our lips only parted for air, and even that we shared. In the dark, it was just Steven. No fear, no sadness, no thoughts of any kind. He rid me of my mind.

His shirt was the first thing to go. I took my time with him, straddling his lap. I touched every inch of his hot skin, every hill and valley of his muscles. I tasted the thin skin around his Adam's apple, over his collarbones to the tough, rounded shoulders on either side. I wanted to remember everything about every second. If I were to never have him again, if I were to die the next day, I was going to go out with that memory.

My shirt came next, his lips trailing from my chin downwards. He held my back with two large hands, pulling me upright on his lap so he could lick and suck whatever he pleased. His actions followed my gasps; every touch of his tongue made me whimper and squirm and he'd smile to himself, inching his way until I couldn't help but interfere. Fingers still woven in his hair, I directed him to my right breast where he hungrily took the nipple in his mouth.

The sounds I made were involuntary and unintelligible. I'd never made those noises for anyone

When he figured I'd had enough, I suppose, his grinning face returned to mine, our mouths meeting in hot, passionate kisses. His fingers massaged my back, the rough pads tracing my spine and sending fire between my legs. It was all so confusing for me, stroking his hair and looking into his eyes. I adored this man. I wanted him in every sense of the word. But how could that translate to the lust pooling in my stomach? Sex was about greed, about taking from another. Wasn't it?

He waited until I made the move to remove my shorts. Then he was more than willing to aid in their banishment. This was uncharted territory for both of us, it seemed, and yet we said nothing. Words weren't necessary. My underwear went with the shorts and Steven ran his hands up and down my thighs, rubbing his thumbs over the bones in my hips as he kissed me into oblivion.

His circling thumbs drifted inwards, on my lower stomach, and his long fingers wrapped around my sides. The circular motion teased my nerves, tingling waves of need shooting from deep between my thighs. I craved him worse than a fix and he knew it. Steven heeded my growing whines, unzipped his fly and moaned when his hard erection was freed from his jeans.

When he was inside me, I couldn't stop. My cries were a mixture of sighs, gasps, whimpers and whines, and I couldn't help it. He filled me with his hot length and moved with perfect rocks of his hips, bringing me to life from the inside out. As he ground into the apex of my legs, his hands drove me onto him. I was wrapped around his neck, shivering on his chest with utter delight as we moved in sync. This wasn't about how good it felt, not entirely; it was about how good we felt, together.

I had my first orgasm with Steven. At first, I didn't understand that's what was happening to me. It felt like I was on fire, my body tensing and screaming with sensation. I was moving faster and faster, moaning higher and longer into Steven's neck while he smoothed his hands over my back and whispered in my ear.

"Atta girl." His reassuring words let me loose, and I threw my head back, shuddering with pleasure as my body ripped into rhythmic pulses. He groaned and kissed my neck, kneading my butt in his palms. "Feels good, doesn't it?" I couldn't manage a verbal response, so I smiled and laughed, riding the waves of ecstasy until they'd faded. Good didn't cover it; it was fantastic. Better than being drunk, better than getting high.

It wasn't much longer until Steven was grunting primitive sounds into my ear. Those sounds I was familiar with, and I stroked his hair, making noises of my own to cheer him on. For once, I didn't want to rush to the finish, but he was burning, throbbing from deep inside of me. He was ready.

"Steven." I whispered his name gently into his ear, using my nails to scrape softly over his scalp. When he looked at me, I took his words away with a kiss and he was done. His powerful body flexed beneath me and his fingers pressed into my hips, gliding me slowly until he finished with a groan. All the while, we never broke eye contact; and when our bodies stopped and our hearts calmed, we curled up on the couch.

That night I fell asleep in Steven's arms, listening to him breathe and wishing that the moment would never end.

Because, in this life, everything good comes with a price.

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><p><strong>So, yeahhh. I'm a tad nervous about this. It was a very strange dynamic writing this chapter. Let me know what you thought PLEASE! I love you all.<br>**


	20. Earning Rank

**Wrote this a loonnnggg time ago and now it finally fits. :) Again, I'm low on inspiration, so please please pleaaasseee leave me something. The smallest observation or comment could lead to a new chapter! Enjoy. **

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><p>As I've said, my story isn't a neat little timeline. Many days passed with nothing but the dull and thoroughly forgettable. Just because I lived in an apartment on the worst side of town and my blood relatives were homicidal drug dealers doesn't mean my life was a constant rollercoaster.<p>

There were many boring days.

But they were good days. I had a brother. I had a home. And I had a man.

But I hadn't won much else. Billy didn't welcome me in with open arms. On the contrary. He and the gang didn't approach me for a long while. It took several acts over many months to prove myself, not only Billy, but the gang as a whole. It would take a lot to gain their respect.

And, eventually, their affection.

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><p>One such act begins with Joey, hauling my ass from the passenger seat of his car.<p>

"Come on. All the hot chicks show up early." He muttered, taking quick, long strides towards my apartment. He'd abruptly tugged me from work only ten minutes prior, tossing my manager a warning stare to not interfere. I wasn't complaining on the early departure from a slow shift, but I was surly going to get an earful the next day.

It was dark when we had gotten back to my tattered complex and I squinted into the poorly lit distance as my brother's lean figure bolted to the entrance.

"Wait, what?" I stood dumbfounded beside the car, staring at the packed parking lot. "Joey?"

"Move Todd!" He shouted back at me. "Ya dumb?" At that, I lurched forward at a slight jog, catching up.

"What's goin' on at my apartment?" I asked in a whoosh of breath. Because of his long legs, and his rapid pace, Joey had me working to keep up, making it hard to maintain a conversation. Even so, he didn't slow when he smirked in my direction.

"Your apartment?" Then he barked a laugh, whipping out a cigarette and fumbling for a lighter. "Last I checked, it was Bill's and ya just squat here." I rolled my eyes. True enough.

"If ya wanna get technical, the name on the mailbox says Edgar. But we can assume he's no longer among the living." Just as I muttered the end of my sentence, Joey stopped abruptly, lighting the smoke in his lips with a hard drag. I crossed my arms, watching with a raised eyebrow. When he'd succeeded in demolishing a fifth of the cigarette, he grinned, hissing the smoke towards the ceiling.

"Don't bash it." I let a smile peek through the corners of my mouth.

"Oh why would I?" He was moving again, this time in a confident strut down the remaining length of the hall. Clomping after him in my boots, I grinned. "I owe my apartment to Billy's homicidal tendencies." Joey smirked and slowed in front of my door. Excuse me, Edgar's front door.

"Just be glad those tendencies are workin' for ya." He said. Reaching for the doorknob, he propped his smoke in his lips. Before he'd opened the door, I snatched the cigarette.

"I will never be ok with him killin' people." Joey's face softened and he studied my serious expression. Then he sighed, hand resting on the knob.

"Bill is who he is. Don't complicate that with morals." His voice grew quiet, reflecting. "Morals don't keep ya alive." I took a small drag and nodded.

"Addict, remember?" I said with a lopsided grin. Joey's smile returned in full force.

"Yeah, so you can't judge. You're the real fuck up." With a wink, he threw the door open and stepped inside, releasing a hoot into the crowded room. I took a long drag, slowly approaching the hum that emitted from my once quiet abode.

Apparently my home had been chosen for the gang's evening festivities.

Stepping through that doorway was like being transported into another corner of the city. For one, it was dark. Someone had ditched the main light bulb and thrown open the blinds, letting the faint glow of the moon mingle with a few dim lamps. Where they'd come from, I had no clue. The boys weren't exactly interior decorators, carrying around spare lighting. But I had to admit it, they'd gotten the mood right. In the barely lit apartment, you could see in front of you, but shadow allowed for the privacy the gang wanted. If you can call dark corners private. Again, I can't judge. Only god knows what I'd done at similar parties, because I sure as hell don't remember.

Music wasn't a major factor, it thumped loudly somewhere, but it was tame enough to keep your eardrums from bleeding. Billy didn't like blasting. With a smirk, I recalled a couple grimaces to illustrate my point. Being hungover on a fairly consistent basis can make one irrationally sensitive to sound.

I wedged my way through the front door, figuring on locking myself in my bedroom. Regardless of my new status in Stokely, I wasn't royalty so to speak. Billy, the gang, and I had our boundaries and I knew when to just vanish.

Then again, they'd picked my apartment.

As I mulled that over, I redirected my path towards the kitchen in search of something to drink. If I was going to deal with this, I should reap a little benefit.

Joey wasn't kidding about the girls. They seemed to appear around the gang most of the time anyway, but there were a few that stood out in this crowd. I passed a few girls that screamed college and a few more that reeked of the club scene. At the Four Roses, they would have been out of place. Here, in the dark, they moved with lust, dancing with heated urgency on dangerous men. This wasn't a frat-infested humpfest. This was a legit group of criminals, men that had mug shots and rap sheets. Some were tamer than others, but a few were lethal. But to these girls, they were in a petting zoo, playing with the lions. I snorted to myself at the image. Lions bite.

When I'd finally moved around my mosh pit of a living room, I clamored into the kitchen. It was still crowded, but the light was on, illuminating the mess in a harsh white glare.

"Jesus." I muttered, kicking aside beer cans and assorted trash. I wasn't Martha Stuart, but even an ex-junky can have standards. No one seemed to notice my lack of party attitude, so I gave up completely, shoving skinny girls aside until I reached the refrigerator. I got a few scoffs, but altogether I was invisible. Thankfully, the fridge was stocked and I grabbed a Corona. Then, I plucked another from the shelf with a shrug. Might as well. It was going to be a long night.

"Hey bitch, you're drinkin' my beer." I raised an eyebrow while I tipped the bottle back. The liquid was cool and tangy, familiar like an old friend. If she hadn't spoken up again, I might have forgotten her initial insult in my content swig.

"That beer's mine, ya cunt." That closed my throat and I nearly choked. Looking back at her, I finally caught a glimpse of the irritating voice. She was a tall, busty girl, probably in her early twenties. And, I hate to say it, she was gorgeous. Her lips were pink and the lashes that framed her blazing green eyes were long and jet-black. Unlike many of the other mouthy girls from Stokely, she wasn't dressed like a biker or a washed-out hooker. Her outfit highlighted just enough without displaying the goods like billboard: jeans, heels, and layered tanks. If she'd been a mess, maybe I would have laughed her off. But she was everything but a mess.

"Didn't know there was dibs, alright?" I muttered. Even though she'd insulted me, and thoroughly disrespected me in my own home, I didn't want a fight. She had a good three inches on me, and a nasty glint in her eye. So, I held out the second beer, casually submitting. A couple of people were watching, so I prayed she'd drop it.

"Everything here's mine, bitch." She hissed, snatching the bottle from my hand. With a flick of a bottle opener, she popped the top. And I watched, expecting her to gulp the beer in an act of intimidation; either that or shoot one last quip my way before disappearing in the crowd.

Oh but she didn't. With a smirk, she suddenly raised it and tipped it over, dumping it square on my head. Laughs and shouts erupted from the observing crowd and my mouth fell open in shock. As the cold beer ran over my face, I spun away and screeched, furiously wiping away the liquid. She only watched and laughed, taking a sip from the nearly-emptied bottle.

"What the fuck?" Bodie stepped into view, frowning at me from the doorway. "Harley, what's ya problem?" I gave an exasperated grunt and flung my hands out, the sticky drink running down my arms. His eyes scanned the scene and quickly he realized the scenario.

"Daren! The fuck ya do that for?" He hissed, striding forward to grab the girl's upper arm. Her smirk receded and suddenly her face turned angry. Defending herself, it seemed, required purpose rather than amusement.

"Bitch was drinkin' the beer." She turned her eyes on me, tilting her chin in a disgusted nod. "I didn't invite her." My rage arrived at the station, shock finally letting it through.

"Call me bitch again, ya motherfuckin' whore." I snapped. Bodie tugged on Daren, interrupting our fighting words.

"You're off your ass, ya hear? Harley's good." It wasn't an expression of friendship, but it was more than what I would have gotten a few months ago.

"Who's she fuckin'?" Daren snarled. Impulse surged through my limbs and I brought down my arm, smashing the glass bottle that remained in my hand. It shattered into tiny pieces around our feet and the beer splashed onto my jeans, but I didn't care. Fury was burning in my chest, shaking my hands.

"Say another word, gash, and I will beat your skull into the floor." I growled in a tone I'd never heard. The confidence and stance were not mine. The Harley my mother raised was inside, blinking in shock at the Harley snarling threats.

All my life, I've been an even-keel person. Yes, I've done horrible things and have acted out. But I've never been a fighter. I don't pick fights; I don't like fights. If I can get away with slinking away, I usually do. I've only acted boldly a few times in my life. And this was one of them.

The party had dulled, people moving to see what the commotion was in the kitchen. Bodie was staring at me, eyes opened slightly in surprise. Then, after a moment, he snorted.

"Damn." He murmured, grinning at me. But the expression vanished when a heavy stomp broke the lull.

"The fuck is goin' on?" I swallowed as my brother pushed his way into the small space. But I didn't let my anger ebb. Backing down was the opposite of what he'd do. At that point, his way was probably my best bet to win his approval. Billy glanced at me, took in my general state, and then whipped his head around to stare at Daren.

"Bitch lipped me, baby." She glared at me while she whined. "Threatened me." His brow lifted ever so slightly, and I felt victory warm my stomach.

"What'd she say?" He asked, ignoring me temporarily as he questioned Daren. Bodie dropped her arm and she moved closer to my brother to loop an arm around his waist. It wasn't a needy move, the way she casually stuck her thumb in the belt loop of his jeans, she was confident around him. Nervousness prickled my cheeks as I watched him lean towards her while she spoke.

"Said she'd beat my head in." In a show of theatrics, I let out a dark laugh. This whole situation felt unreal, like I was reading from a novel. I had never defended myself to a group of people like this; it was all guess work.

"No." Billy looked at me as I growled the word and my cockiness only multiplied. I was feeding off of him, acting like him. Like a Darley. "First I called you a gash." Bodie's brow lifted again yet Billy remained stony. "Then I said I'd beat your skull in, on the floor." A lifted lip added to Daren's glare and I smiled. I think, for a moment, I was actually having fun. Saying the cruelest, evilest things that could come to mind felt good. No, it felt awesome.

"Then do it." Billy replied without a blink. Suddenly, the amusement of the situation was gone. I'd bluffed myself into a corner. Everyone was staring and my face slackened in shock. What was I going to do? Daren whipped her head to the side and stared up at Billy, confusion clouding her face. Those precious moments seemed to slow until they practically stopped, singing in my ears. Billy was watching me with an expressionless stare and Bodie was glancing at his friend, waiting for something to happen. They were all waiting.

And Daren was looking at Billy.

It was an engraved invitation. I would have been an idiot not to take it. So, without a single thought, I grabbed the nearest thing, and threw.

Looking back, I know it was a full, unopened can of beer. Then, I just knew it was heavy. And I lobbed it.

Hard.

It flew across the kitchen and, to my amazement, found Daren's temple.

Billy's arms flew up in a surprised jump and Bodie dodged, pressing himself flush to the counter behind him. Daren fell. She dropped like a stone to the floor, crumpling at the knees while her hands instinctively flew out in front of her. People were probably yelling or shouting, but my focus was elsewhere. I just remember shooting forward and falling to my knees. In a clumsy scurry, I climbed on top of her and started bringing my fists down.

Like I said, I'm not a fighter. So most of my blows landed on her forearms, which she'd crossed over her face to protect herself. But I didn't slow down; I only gained momentum, crazily smacking my hands into her stomach and arms. She let out a scream and I grabbed one of her wrists, shoving the limb to the side in order to connect with her face. And then the sound of the room caught up.

It was mostly loud curses. But I heard Billy bellowing and then felt hands on my arms. With a little pulling, I was being lifted from Daren. I got one last punch in, however, smacking her hard on the mouth. Moments later I was on my feet and being tugged away. I lashed out with my heels in a last attack.

"That's what ya get, BITCH!" I shouted with a crazed grin. My breathing was erratic and I heard myself laughing as I panted for air. The crowd gave me a wide birth as I was dragged through the apartment.

"Fuck, girl." Bodie's voice, breathless in my ear. I jerked against him as his hands pinched my biceps, but I lessened my struggling as he carted me into the bathroom. No one was looking anymore when he pushed me in the empty room, closing the door behind us. As I whirled to face him, I was surprised by the smile on his face.

"Didn't think you'd do it." He snorted. Then he pointed to the toilet. "Sit."

"I want a goddamn beer." I grunted, sitting roughly on the plastic seat. Bodie made a face.

"Shut up." So I did. The high of being a badass was fading with each breath, and I realized I would have to rein it in. Apparently I could say what I wanted to other girls, but I knew better with the men. No delusions there. We sat in silence for a moment and Bodie moved to glance out into the hall. With the door open a crack, I could hear the commotion outside. For the most part, it sounded like people were back to their business. But Bodie suddenly stepped aside and Billy slipped past, motioning for his friend to leave.

All of my gutsy attitude was gone in an instant.

"Ya gonna tell me what that was?" He asked, crossing his arms while he stood over me. My eyes darted away and I focused on a fascinating tile under my foot.

"Sorry."

"Did I ask ya ta say sorry?" He boomed the question so loud, my ears rang in the small room. My gaze shot up to him and I quickly shook my head.

"I just did what…" I had to eat the end of the sentence before I admitted my childish motivation. I did what I thought he would want me to do. So we sat in silence for a moment: me biting my tongue and Billy staring.

"She do that?" He eventually muttered. His eyes were moving over my wet hair and damp jacket. Absentmindedly, I touched my sticky head.

"Yeah." The reply didn't gain a response. "How can she act like that?" I asked, peering up at him with genuine confusion. The gang didn't tolerate insubordination, even in their women. They didn't like people acting out of line.

"Where ya get off deckin' her?" Billy retorted, face still blank. The man had a hell of a poker face. Unlike Bodie, I had no idea how my actions sat with him.

"You told me to." I mumbled. "She deserved it anyway." He cocked a brow and I felt my heart quicken. A reaction. Finally. "Tried to tell me that everything here was hers." Billy sniffed.

"The fuck it is." Relief flooded my lungs as I took a long breath. He wasn't pissed at me. At least, that's what I thought.

"Who was she?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter on the toilet. Billy dropped his arms and twisted the doorknob.

"Bitch that I fuck." I couldn't say I was surprised. Their body language and her confidence all had pointed to her thinking of herself as a queen bee. Little did she know, Billy had queen bees all over Stokely.

"She's a cunt." I muttered.

As he opened the door and stepped into the hall, he glanced back at me for a moment. Then he surprised me. The corner of his mouth twitched, pulling upward into a crooked grin.

"They all are."

The rest of the night I spent in my room. And I was left alone. By morning, most people had gone and only a few of the gang remained, strewn about on my reject furniture. But I didn't mind. In fact, I walked around with a grin on my face all morning. Joey had texted me about Daren. Apparently, one of my punches had landed.

And her lip was swollen for five days.

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><p><strong>Lurve you guys. <strong>

**BIG love to my reviewers.  
>~Shortee93, Sparkly, Cotton Strings~<strong>


	21. A Big Favor

**Instead of watching the Oscars, I wrote you all a chapter. :) Enjoy!**

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><p>My next act wasn't exactly bravery. But it had deep meaning behind it. Gangs hold a lot of worth in the nuances of meaning. The smallest of actions can make you man of the hour while the simplest of mistakes could cost you your life.<p>

It had been nearly four months since Deb's death. A long time, yet it felt like it had passed within the span of a week. My visits to the clinic were becoming less and less of a necessity and I'd managed to gain nearly twenty pounds. Unlike the majority of the population, the extra weight made me glow with pride. I filled out clothes like a normal human being, and my body was finally starting to look strong. It was a good time in my life. Not the best, but much better than it had been.

Joey was always around, to the point where my sofa had become his home away from home. This was a welcome change…most nights.

But not when Steven came over.

Our relationship was…complicated. He worked for my father, fixing cars and doing god knows what else. His loyalty belonged to Bones and he had made it clear that's where it would stay.

But his heart belonged to me. He'd made that clear also. On more than one occasion, he'd shown up just to hold me, too exhausted to do much else. And I didn't mind. It was almost too perfect for someone like me. Steven was gentle, protective, and honest. And when I needed him, I knew he was a phone call away. When I wanted him, he would appear without prompting and give me all I could take. That was more than I could have ever asked for.

It was after one such night that this story begins.

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><p>Steven was an early riser, so he'd dressed and gone before I'd even begun to stir. It was normal to find the indent of his body abandoned. Rolling over, I put my face into the spot in the sheets and inhaled, savoring the sweet, faded smell of him. Waking up together had, so far, been uncharted territory. But I fantasized about the day when he would be there, holding me when I slogged from the depths of slumber.<p>

"HARLEY!" A bellow and a storm of knocks erupted from my front door, sending me straight into the air. "OPEN UP, GODDAMN IT!" Scrambling to find some suitable clothes, I tugged on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before I rushed to unlock the door. My brother wasted no time barging inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Joey! What the hell?" I asked, crossing my arms to fight off the gust of cool air from the hall. He paced around the living room for a beat before he shot towards me, grabbing both of my shoulders.

"I need a favor." Blinking, I studied his expression. It was obvious he hadn't slept, and his eyes were wild.

"What ya need is ta fuckin' relax." I murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Are you high?" He flinched, retracting as if I'd hit him. My mouth fell open.

"JOEY!" He tugged on the ends of his hair, hissing air through his teeth.

"This is fucked." His words were muttered and almost inaudible. I shook my head.

"What the fuck happened? Start from the begin—"

"THEY'RE FUCKIN' COMING! I DON'T HAVE TIME!" Joey screamed so abruptly I winced, stepping away out of fear. He was circling again, mumbling to himself.

"Who, Joey? Tell me who's coming." I'd seen paranoia from drugs before; I'd even felt it myself. Watching him panic, I tried my best to soothe.

"THE GODDAMN COPS." He bellowed and stared at me, panting. His pupils were so dilated; whatever he'd taken was still strong in his system. My calm demeanor was going to get me nowhere.

"Sit." I said, taking a line from Bodie and pointing to the recliner. Joey clamped his eyes closed.

"I don't have TIME!" Stepping closer, I shook my head.

"Sit down goddamn it!" Joey snapped his mouth shut and dropped into the chair, his hands fidgeting on the armrests. I let a breath whoosh from my lungs and ran my fingers through my hair. As I searched for a solution, Joey shot from the chair.

"I need ta leave!" Giving up on subtlety, I shoved him back into the recliner.

"What is your favor?" I asked, trying to get some sort of sense from him.

"I need ya to tell the cops I was here last night." My heart fell into my stomach as his eyes shone with guilt. This wasn't paranoia, something was seriously wrong.

"Why? What happened?" Joey's face crumbled and he let out a long groan, smacking his forehead with both hands.

"I fucked up. I'm fucked. This is fucked. Bill is—" Then he looked up at me, his eyes wide. "Oh shit…Bill. He's gonna goddamn kill me. Oh fuck. FUCK!" He was up again, racing past me to the bathroom. His fear gripped me, freezing me in place as he ran the sink. When his voice rang out from the room, I listened, hand over my mouth.

"They were at the door when I woke up, fuckin' knockin' and yellin' and I ran down the fuckin' fire escape. How many blocks?...Had ta be like thirteen." Walking into the doorway, I watched him ramble, hunched over the sink at he splashed handfuls of water into his face. "I can't think. FUCK!" He was scared, his face turning red as he stared at himself in the mirror. Gently, I walked up behind him and ran a hand over his back.

"It's alright. We'll figure it ou—" I didn't get to finish my sentence. Knocks thundered from the abused front door.

"POLICE! OPEN THE DOOR!" I knew what to do before I could even process a plan.

"Get in the shower." I ordered, ripping Joey's shirt over his head and tugging on his jeans. He nodded, following my direction without asking. It was as if we were on the same wavelength, understanding each other instantly. When he was in his boxers, I grabbed his shoes and turned on the shower, running down the hall to my bedroom.

Burying his clothes in the hamper beneath my dirty work uniform, I had slipped into sneakers as the sound of splintering wood exploded in the front of my apartment.

"FUCK!" I screamed, covering my ears and whirling to face the hallway. Six officers swarmed in, armed to the teeth and aiming their guns at me.

"GET YOUR HANDS UP!" I did as I was told, shaking in honest fear. It had only been moments earlier that I'd stumbled from bed; now I was facing a mass of angry policeman. One motioned to the bathroom door and he put his hand on the knob.

"Don't hurt him!" I yelled. "JOEY!" My words were barely heard over their yells as they busted into the bathroom. I heard his fear under their commands and I started to cry, inching down the hall. "DON'T HURT HIM!" An officer held out an arm.

"Stay back." The sound of a body on the floor sent a jolt of pain through me. Joey let out a muffled groan and the metallic clink of handcuffs echoed in the tiled room.

"Joseph Darley, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Antonio Jones. You have the right to remain silent…" I tried to crane my neck for a look at the scene. Joey's head appeared, his disheveled and wet hair sticking every which way. As they pulled him out into the hall, I lurched forward to get closer. A cop grabbed my shoulder and wrenched me back.

"GET YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS OFF OF HER!" Joey suddenly screamed, his face red with fury. His outburst earned him a jab in the gut and I clawed to get away from the officer.

"DON'T HIT HIM YOU GODDAMN ASSHOLE!" Tears were blurring my eyes, but it didn't slow me down. I thrashed in the hands of two men. Drawing back an arm in an attempt to escape, I connected my elbow with one of their faces.

"Shit!" The cop yelled, ducking away. I froze for a moment, shocked at what I'd done.

Then I met wall.

"Well, honey, ya just earned yourself a ride with ya little friend." My arms were wrenched behind my back and I whimpered in pain as cold metal clamped around my wrists. Without delay, I was cuffed and forced down the hallway. They dragged me with my brother, reciting the same rights all the way out to the cruisers.

As they paraded us down the sidewalk, I remember seeing the entire neighborhood watching, standing around as I trembled in the cold. In nothing but shorts and a t-shirt, I was pushed into the back seat of a cruiser for all to see.

* * *

><p>"The sooner ya tell the truth, the sooner ya can leave." The officer chided for the hundredth time, waving a hand over the table. I let out a groan and ran my hands through my hair.<p>

"I told ya fifteen goddamn times." I muttered. Flicking my eyes up to meet his, I glared with all the hate I could muster. "Joey was sleepin' over on my couch, just like he does all the time." I dropped my hands to the table, spreading them wide. "Ya caught him gettin' in the fuckin' shower!" The officer shook his head.

"Ya know, Harley, I can't give ya unlimited chances." Throwing my head back, I stared at the ceiling.

"Oh my god, it's the truth." I moaned, closing my eyes. "You're wastin' ya time." He snorted a small laugh.

"You're gonna see a jail cell for hittin' that cop. It's not my time you're wastin'." Sitting up, I glared at him from across the table.

"What, so I lie ta save my own skin?" The officer sighed and closed his eyes. "Cuz that's what I'd be doin'. Lyin'. Joey was at my apartment, all fuckin' night." He stood up and crossed the room towards the door.

"Your loss, honey." As he opened the door, I leaned back and shouted after him.

"I want my goddamn phone call!"

I was hauled from the room after a few minutes and shoved in a small cage-like space, watching policeman strut around their comfy nest. A few women sat in the holding cell, the smell of nightlife heavy on their skimpy clothes. I shivered, realizing I must have looked the same way the night Deb had died: strung out and barely standing.

Just then, they were leading Joey through the station, his head held high. It had been almost two hours since we'd arrived and he looked as though his strength had returned. The high was gone, replaced with the stony demeanor of our bloodline. Dressed in whatever the cops had found for him to wear, Joey yanked his cuffed hands away from a female officer as she tried to tug him into a room, preferring to walk in on his own. I smiled at him, wrapping my fingers around the iron bars in front of my face. He caught a glimpse of me and his expression brightened for a fraction of a second as he shot a wink across the room. Then they closed him inside and he disappeared from view.

"Someone sure caught ya with ya pants down." I turned as one of my companions chirped at me from her perch on a bench. She had short, chubby legs and a skin-tight mini skirt up around her thighs. Her boobs were mashed together, shoved into a tube top that was two sizes too small. Make-up was smeared around her eyes and mouth, her hair tossed around her face in a similar form of disarray.

"It's eight in the goddamn morning." I muttered, looking back out into the bullpen. "I was in fuckin' bed."

"With Joe Darley?" She asked. Whirling my head around, I made a face.

"No." The woman gave a laugh, pulling up her top in a vain attempt of containing her massive cleavage.

"Why not? He's hung like a horse." I shook my head and let my face rest between two bars of the cell.

"Ew." I groaned, trying to get the implications out of my mind. She chuckled again.

"Oh I get it. Am I more ya type, sweetheart?" Her voice turned to a thick purr and I couldn't contain a snort.

"Yeah no." I said, turning around and crossing my arms. "I'm not into women." She pursed her lips, smiling coyly.

"Then why aren't ya all up in that? The things I've heard—" I shot a hand out, palm flat.

"Save it." I said, closing my eyes. "Please." The woman stood and shimmied in her tiny skirt.

"Honey, please. Ya can't be that prude. Your ass was hauled in with a Darley…a Darley in his underwear." One of her penciled eyebrows lifted and she pointed a long, plastic fingernail at my ensemble. "It doesn't take a genius ta put the pieces together." I smiled and shook my head.

"Trust me, it isn't like that." Her head shook and the hair stayed in place, stiff with hairspray.

"Oh honey, with a Darley…" She slipped into silence, staring over my shoulder. Following her gaze, I turned and looked just as Billy strut into the front door of the police station.

But he wasn't alone.

Filing in behind him was a tall, thin man in a sharp suit, Bodie, and Rick. I swallowed, watching as the four men walked up to the front desk. Billy spoke first, his voice rumbling from his lips. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I could hear his anger. The woman beside me moved closer, gripping the bars of the cell. As I glanced to my right, a couple of the others had turned their heads, all paying very close attention to the scene unraveling in the station.

After Billy growled a few commands at the front desk, the man in the suit followed, jutting a finger at the receptionist and frowning as he continued. Bodie was glancing around the room, smirking at cops as they stared. It was much quieter suddenly; people were hanging up phones and lowering their voices.

Rick was the first to find me, his eyes latching on to my figure and a grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Bodie noticed him staring and he found me quickly thereafter, tilting his chin in acknowledgement. I gave him a small shrug, a warm feeling spreading in my stomach. He was communicating with me, reassuring me in his own way.

"Well now…" The woman beside me cooed, turning her body to glance at me from head to toe. "Looks like you're gonna be outta here in no time, baby doll." I smiled and she shook her head. "What's your name, baby?"

"Get 'er out of the fuckin' cell." Billy's voice rose just enough to reach our ears. A few officers exchanged glances, hiding their nervousness by placing hands on their guns. But the suit followed up the angry words with a few of his own; and soon an officer was crossing the room to the holding cell. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"My name's Harley." I answered, stepping towards the cell door. The various other women watched as I was released from the cell, their eyes widening in surprise. Walking calmly through the desks, and officers sitting behind them, I was shown to the other side of the front counter.

"Take her home." Billy grunted to Rick, nodding in the direction of the door. Rick gave a stiff nod and grabbed me around the waist, turning me roughly towards the exit. I glanced over my shoulder at my brother, but he wasn't watching, his gaze burning holes into the female receptionist.

"I like your jammies." Rick purred, his hand slipping down my back to my butt. Shoving him away, I burst through the double doors into the sun, crossing my arms in the cold. I bared my teeth to hiss a remark at him, but the wind left my lungs in a long sigh.

Steven.

"Look at ya." He said, shaking his head. Leaning against the side of Bones' DeVille, he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Ya look absolutely criminal." My heart swelled with happiness. After a morning from hell, all I wanted was to be held by the man I…

…loved?

Stepping into his chest, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a hard kiss. I didn't care that Rick was standing right there, or that any moment someone could see. I was too happy for all of that.

His big hands took hold of my upper arms and he lifted me off, making a face.

"Harley…" I pressed a palm into the middle of his face, pushing off to walk around the car.

"Don't Harley me, I was arrested this morning." He sighed and followed, getting into the driver's side while Rick roughly slammed the passenger's door.

"Arrested my ass." Rick grumbled once we were all inside the car and pulling away. "That lawyer tore holes in that shit without liftin' a fuckin' finger." Steven glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Did ya really hit a cop, Harley?" I sighed and crossed my arms, squinting at him from the backseat.

"Yeah, Steven. I'm a closet badass who picks fights with cops in her pjs." Rolling my eyes, I flopped a hand on the seat beside me. "I was tryin' ta stop them from hurtin' Joey, and my elbow caught one in the eye." Steven raised an eyebrow at me.

"By accident?" I shook my head.

"They were all over me, it wasn't on purpose." Rick gave a short laugh, lighting a cigarette.

"That lawyer mentioned police brutality." He turned in his seat, casting a wink into the back. "Did they get a little rough with ya, sweetheart?" Steven said nothing, but his eyes tightened in anger. I glared back at Rick.

"They threw Joey to the floor." Suddenly, I remembered Joey was still at the station. "What's gonna happen to him?" Steven sighed, turning the opposite direction from of my apartment.

"If they can't prove he wasn't at your place all night…" He glanced in the rearview mirror, a tiny smile twitching his left eye. "…then they have to let him go." I nodded and hid my own grin. If he had been there, he wouldn't have gotten much sleep.

"He was high, right?" Rick muttered, hissing a lungful of smoke into the car. I swallowed and leaned my head against the window.

"Yeah."

"You put him in the shower?" Steven asked, steering us deeper into Stokely. I shrugged.

"I couldn't think of anything else." He nodded.

"It was good thinkin'. Probably knocked some sense into him." I continued to stare out the window, watching big, bare trees whiz by.

"I saw some guy do that when a girl was ODing at a party." I murmured. Suddenly, my eyes were very heavy and the heat inside the car was ushering me to sleep.

"Did it work?" Steven asked as my eyes slid closed.

"No." We bumbled on in silence until the sound of the tires blended into the back of my mind, fading into darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>WELL. What do you think big brother will have to say? Any predictions on what Joey got himself into? hmmmm.<br>BIG LOVE to my reviewers.  
>~xoShortee93, Dancing-Pinky-Flower, Cotton Strings, and Sparkly~<br>I got my inspiration back enough for this and TWO other chapters! All thanks to you guys…seriously. I get motivated and inspired from the smallest of comments. For that, I adore ya!**


	22. Bail and Brothers

**I apologize, as always, for taking forever to write this chapter. My muse loves to skip around and do whatever it likes. Plus, I can't seem to keep a writing streak going to save my life. **

**New character! (If anyone can figure out the two references I put into this character, you get a treat. hint: one's easy, one's not. hint 2: they're specific to an actor from this movie...you have to get bothhhh) I'm going to start fleshing out the Bones side of the family business…you already know Rick and Steven, prepare yourself for more! Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>"Out." Rick's voice gruffly woke me from my brief nap. His face was foggy through the dirty window, his knuckle knocking loudly against it as I scowled at him. He registered no emotion on the other side of the glass, waiting as I sat up and stretched my arms. "OUT."<p>

"Yeah yeah." I grunted, smacking the window. "Give me twelve seconds, ya jerk." Apparently he liked that response, smirking as he strode away. Then again, Rick loved getting under my skin. I was the idiot who kept letting him.

Steven was nowhere to be seen, the driver's seat empty. Waking up to an empty car was a little jarring, and yet I realized, bitterly, he was always gone when I woke up. I guess the rule didn't only apply to the bedroom. Opening the door, I sighed as I looked around Bones' lot. It was warm outside, yet the ground was damp from a recent drizzle.

"Home sweet home." I murmured. After the morning I'd had, the last thing I wanted to do was explain everything to my father. But I didn't call the shots. He did.

"Hey jailbird, let's go." Rick was still impatiently standing up the walkway, gesturing angrily towards the shop. Adjusting my t-shirt, and firmly crossing my arms over my chest, I obeyed with little stomps of my tennis shoes.

"You're such an asshole." I hissed at him as I passed. Though my irritation was exactly what he wanted, it felt good to be pissed at someone, even if he was getting off on it. Rick snorted and followed, trailing behind me into the dark shop.

"To each his own, baby."

* * *

><p>Inside, there was the normal amount of noise; which was enough to make your ears ring. It was the middle of the afternoon, so the shop was bustling with work, men coming and going from the garage floor. We moved briskly along, passing a few familiar faces, until we reached the back. Near the office entrance, Steven stepped out and met us. His face brought a little comfort, but he didn't say anything to me. Instead, he nodded quickly to Rick, crossing his arms.<p>

"He's pissed." Rick made a sound in the back of his throat and I sighed.

"Great." Steven looked from Rick to me, his face hardening into a serious stare.

"Just tell him the truth, exactly what ya remember." Rolling my eyes, I pushed past them both, heading straight into my father's office. If there was one thing I didn't need, it was being talked at like I was a child. I'd been arrested and desperately needed a shower. The combination was not making me friendly.

As I entered the long room, I realized I probably should have waited.

There was a woman, sitting on top of the desk, her long, denim-clad legs parted wide. Her body was facing me, but her head was turned to address Bones, her hands propping up her upper body in a reclining slouch. Slowing my approach, I watched as he handed her a stack of money, easily a few thousand dollars. Her face split into a pretty smile and she tapped the cash on her thigh. Normally, I would have assumed she'd earned that money in the worst fashion possible. But her body language and attire dismissed that idea before I could consider it. This girl was definitely not a hooker.

"You're a beautiful man, Bones Darley. I don't care what they say about ya." He gave a gruff laugh. I silently raised my brows. I'd never heard someone speak that way to him.

"What do they say 'bout me, sweetheart?" She was confident in her answer, a smile spread wide across her lips.

"That you're a horrible, horrible man." Bones only smiled, crossing his arms over his large belly. Color me stunned.

"At least they got one thing right." Her legs swung effortlessly off the side of his desk and she dismounted, her boots landing quietly on the floor. I admired her for a moment, examining everything from her toes to her nose. She wore a reddish-orange jacket, the leather worn with use, and her jeans were dark, clean and fitted. Beneath her jacket was a snug, black t-shirt and on her feet were expensive, riding boots. Not riding as in horses. No no, this girl was not an equestrian princess.

Motorcycles.

"Always a pleasure, sir." She saluted with two fingers, striding away from his desk with a firm rotation of her shoulders. I was suddenly embarrassed to be staring, but I couldn't look away as she moved closer. Her pull wasn't from femininity; it was from her natural beauty. Around her face hung stick-straight, dark blonde hair and her eyes shone a stunning shade of green. Without a lick of make-up, she was still gorgeous.

"Jackie, ya dirty cunt." Rick snarled, meeting her head on. It was only then I was made aware the boys had followed me inside. Therefore, his greeting surprised me. Then I was confused by it.

"Fuck you, Rick." She hissed back, shoving him plainly out of the way. He grabbed for her shoulder and Jackie wasted no time, spinning around and slapping his hand away while forcing a finger into his face. "Keep your hands off, asshole."

"You owe me six hundred bucks, ya gash." Rick was ready to fire back, pressing his chest into her accusing finger.

"HEY!" Bones broke up the argument in a moment, his voice rattling the room. "Kill each other on ya own time! Jack, GET OUT." Jackie glared at Rick, ignoring the command for a moment. Then she stepped back, heading towards the door once more.

"You're lucky he likes ya, Rickie." She hissed. Rick sneered, making a kissy sound as she backed away.

"Be a good dog, baby. Get." Flashing a middle finger, she did just that, disappearing into the lot. Eyes wide, I glanced between Rick and the front of the shop, raising an eyebrow to Steven. He shook his head. _Not now._

"Keep ya bullshit to yaself." Bones snarled. "Fuckin' idiots." Then he waved a hand. "I don't need ya. Get back ta work." For some reason, I wasn't afraid of being alone with him. When Steven and Rick slowly vanished from the room, I approached the desk slowly, standing in front of him in my pajamas.

"Who was she?" I blurted the question, breaking the silence. Honestly, I was curious. Bones made a face, frowning behind his glasses.

"Who's who?" Crossing my arms tighter, I sighed silently, accepting the question as an answer. _None of your business._

"What's gonna happen to Joey?" Bones stood up from his chair, hands braced on the desk.

"I ask the questions. Got it?" His voice boomed in the concrete room and I blanched, nodding and staring at the floor. Slowly he sat back down, peering at me over his glasses. "Ya know what he did?" I shook my head.

"No." Bones sniffed.

"Ya tell 'em anythin'?" His question wounded my pride and I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head with a frown.

"I told the cops he slept on my couch. That he was there all night." Tilting his head back, he resumed his staring from behind his thick lenses, eyes magnified.

"What were ya really doin'?" He growled. I swallowed.

"Sleepin'." Then, in a moment of brilliance, I gestured to my clothes. "I hadn't even gotten out of bed yet." Bones studied me from head to toe, his mouth set in silence.

Just then, a roar hummed from the front of the shop, yet neither of us looked. It grew and clarified, arguing voices standing out from the mass of noise. When the disturbance moved into the office, I turned and saw Joey.

My big, stupid brother.

For a moment, I didn't care how dumb it was, I just ran. He smirked and caught me in a hug, picking me off the ground.

"The fuck took ya so long?" Bones bellowed. I clung to Joey, refusing to let go. It bothered me how worried I had been. But for a moment, everything was okay.

"Fuckin' slick here couldn't spring 'em like ya thought." Billy's voice thundered as he walked by. Setting me down, Joey looked over my shoulder at his brother.

"Give it a rest, Bill." Billy pointed a finger at his face, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

"SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH." Like two turtles hiding in a shell, Joey and I stood in silence, his long arm wrapped around my shoulders. Billy huffed for a moment, lowered his hand and straightened his jacket, all the while keeping eye contact with Bones.

"Mr. Darley, your son's case is vastly more complicated than anticipated. I couldn't talk him out of the charges like I was able to do for your daughter." I recognized the lawyer from the police station, his simple suit standing out in the room.

"That doesn't explain half a million bucks." Billy snarled. Our father shared the sentiment, his body shooting from his chair.

"HOW MUCH?" The lawyer thrust out his hands and Joey squeezed me closer.

"The DA is charging your son with attempted murder, the bail was significantly higher for—"

"HALF A MILLION?" Bones was bright red, screaming from behind his desk. Billy turned and glared at the lawyer, his eyes slicing through the poor man in fury.

"When the case is dropped, you'll get your money back." The lawyer insisted. "By the end of today, I'll have his charge dropped to assault with a deadly weapon. You'll get almost all of your money back before the sun goes down." Bones stared for a moment, then shot his eyes at Joey. I felt my brother wince, but he moved us forward anyway.

"Dad—" Bones waved a hand and Joey went silent. Then our father sank into his chair, looking back at the lawyer.

"How much?" The man held out a hand.

"Bail will be twenty-five grand." He murmured. Bones snorted.

"Still a fuckin' waste." The suit shifted on his feet, his briefcase hanging at this side.

"When the case is dropped, it'll be nothing." He said the words with an air of confidence that made me frown in confusion. Was he that good? My father liked that answer, his anger slowly fading.

"Then what am I payin' ya to stand here for?" The lawyer dipped his head and turned on a heel, leaving with quick clicks of his dress shoes. Billy shook his head.

"Fuckin' leeches." Bones made a low, growling sound.

"I don't wanna hear anotha word from any of ya." He stood and circled his desk as all three of us stood, watching. "My fuckin' problems, is what ya are. I can't turn my head without one of ya fuckin' up somethin'. GODDAMN IT." I jumped under Joey's arm, flinching at Bones' booming roar. Billy squared his shoulders, tilting his head back.

I admired him for his ability to hold firm under pressure. Surely he wanted to yell back, throw an insult in Bones' face. But he barely blinked. Joey moved to stand straighter, his free hand tucked into his pocket as he held me close with the other.

"Ya do this shit again, ya on ya own. No son of mine." He snarled at Joey. "Ya sorry ass is gonna rot in a cell 'til they shove a needle in ya arm." Joey nodded, grinding his back teeth. Then Bones turned to Billy. "And you, the hardass gang lord." Billy swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "WHERE WERE YOU?" Before I could stop him, Joey stepped forward out of my grasp.

"It ain—" Billy whirled and I squeaked as he grabbed Joey by the neck. Wrenching him around, Billy pushed Joey to the nearest wall, snarling into his face.

"WHAT PART OF SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH DID YA NOT UNDERSTAND?" I was torn, stumbling forward as if to interfere, but terrified I would only make matters worse. Joey squirmed on the wall, clawing at Billy's jacket sleeve. But he didn't try to speak; he only made small gagging sounds, his face turning redder with each second. Horror flooded my stomach when his struggling started to fade.

"BILLY!" I screamed so loud it hurt my own ears, but I didn't care. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as Joey's face slowly turned purple. Looking between my brothers and my father, I wished it would all stop.

Then it did.

Billy dropped him like stone and Joey coughed loudly, covering his throat with a hand. Bones was unmoved by the display, his eyes peering over the top of his glasses.

"I was on the corner." Billy grumbled, stepping away. "Making money." Then he glared at me. The look caused anger to creep into my mouth like bile.

"What?" I hissed. His brows fell into a straight line, deadly serious, and he raised a finger.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth."

"All of ya shut up." Bones finally snapped. "Goddamn children, the LOTTA YA!" He shouted, looking past us into the shop, no doubt including Rick in his description. "Get out. Fuckin' idiots." I was more than happy to comply. In a quiet march, we all filed from the room, following Billy as he barged through the shop. The working noise had all but stopped, faces watching us through plastic as we paraded by. But, for some reason, I held my head high. Tears and all.

Outside, I slowed to a stop beside Steven's truck. He would be more than willing to give me a lift, and probably a lecture. As I crossed my arms and leant on the side, a hand closed roughly around my bicep and yanked me away. Letting out a grunt of surprise, I glared up at Billy as he dragged me towards the Mustang.

"You're ridin' with me." He growled, releasing me near the passenger's side. Joey was already standing there, holding the door open. With a small nod, he motioned for me to get inside; so I did so quietly, trusting him.

The ride was silent at first, uncomfortable. I watched Billy's face in the rearview mirror, wondering why he wanted to drive me home. The last time he'd done this, he'd dumped me in an alley with a horny bum. I could only wonder what his motivation was this time.

"Ya fuckin' moron." He suddenly growled, eyes trained on the road. Joey lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window.

"Bill, take it easy." His voice was soft and reluctant, like he really didn't want to have this conversation. But Billy shook his head.

"I wasn't kiddin' 'bout ya shuttin' your mouth." He snarled. "Ya goddamn idiot." Shooting a glare at his younger brother, Billy furrowed his brow. "The fuck ya tryin' ta do, huh? Ya wanna end up in a ditch?" Joey rolled his eyes, exhaling with a sigh.

"I said I was sorry. Trust me, I don't want that ta happen again." My mouth slowly dropped open as I listened to their tamed interaction. What happened to the two men I'd seen in Bones' shop? One willing to strangle his brother while the other silently took the punishment.

"Am I missing something?" I asked quietly. Joey looked back at me, ready to answer, when Billy cut him off.

"Wish I could beat some sense into ya." Billy snapped. Joey rolled his eyes and took a drag, hissing it out while he turned his seat to face me.

"The older we got, the more we realized…" He gestured to Billy loosely. "…if Bill protects me, Bones only hits harder. If Bill hits me…" Joey turned and glared at his brother for a moment. "Or chokes the piss outta me…" Billy grunted.

"I knew what I was doin'." My expression relaxed when I realized what Joey was saying.

"He can go easy on you." I finished his sentence. Billy stared at me in the mirror.

"Easy my ass." He snapped. Joey rolled his eyes a second time.

"If Bill gets pissed, it's better than Bones gettin' pissed." He clarified. "Cuz I know Bill won't kill me." I swallowed, looking down at my hands. That was a hard reality, hurting your brother because you wanted to protect him from your father.

"You're still a fuckin' moron." Billy growled. "Gettin' high and stickin' a bouncer." Joey flopped back around in his seat. "I should strangle your stupid ass."

"I don't even remember doin' it, alright? All I remember are the girls and the coke and fuckin' the tightest bitch I've ever had." I wrinkled my nose and closed my eyes.

"Jesus." I muttered, trying to wipe the images from my mind. Billy was less than amused.

"Yeah well, Burk's gonna make her a dead tight bitch." My eyes snapped open and Joey took a drag in silence.

"Wait, what?" I asked, leaning forward in the back seat. "What does she have to do with—"

"She's a witness." Joey murmured, hissing smoke from his lips. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave me a sad shrug. "When Bones cleans up a mess…" He turned back around and stared out the window. "…Rick and Burk are good at what they do." I shuddered, remembering the body they'd dragged into Bones' office the first day I'd met them.

"Just be glad Bones didn't include either of ya in that mess." Billy grumbled. Looking at me the mirror and then at Joey, he was sure to have both of us paying attention before he continued. "He wouldn't hesitate ta drop both of ya with in a hole somewhere."

* * *

><p>The day Deb had died, I'd fallen into a world with very real dangers and harsh consequences. Because of my bloodline, I had become a part of a family that existed on a razor's edge.<p>

In his own way, Billy had been cluing me in. His angry warnings and gruff words had been his version of brotherly affection. He was frustrated that our lives had been put in jeopardy by our own stupidity; which implied he cared. About both of us.

Having Billy as a brother, I knew there wouldn't be hugs and laughter. That fact was obvious and I didn't mind. He may have been angry and mean, but the point was he'd been there. Not only for Joey, but also for me.

And that was worth more than a hug.

* * *

><p><strong>Little bit of a John Goodman moment in there as well, because…well…if you know me, I love John Goodman. Therefore, I love Bones. Regardless of what a butthead he can be in the movie. I'm all grins during his scenes. If you find all three of my little hidden thingies…you're amazing. I will give you ridiculous amounts of praise in my next chapter.<strong>

**ANYWHO, leave 'em if you want a chance at a treattt. Not saying what it is yet. It's a surprise. Love to my faithfuls. **


	23. Sending a Message

Though I'd proven my loyalty to Billy and his men, it took a moment of weakness to turn the tide. This event acted, I believe, as a reaffirmation of who I really was. With all of the emotions and pride, sometimes it was forgotten. I wasn't a threat. I was literally bound to the gang, to Billy, and certainly to Bones; but even then, I wasn't quite the problem they all pretended. I was an eighteen-year-old girl. I was small in their large world. They could do more harm to me than I could ever do to them.

And one night, that truth became a harsh reality.

* * *

><p>I was working a shift, only three days after Joey's arrest. Everything was just starting to feel normal again. Billy had sent Bodie to fix my door, Joey's charges had been dropped, and I'd worked my ass off to avoid any emotions.<p>

And Steven hadn't come by. Not once. I wanted to feel nothing. But I couldn't help it. I missed him and I hated him for leaving me alone. He had always been there for some sort of relief. Just having someone hold me at night brought more peace than I'd ever imagined possible. But he hadn't shown up.

So I didn't wait. When a night shift opened up, I took it. I guess you could call it pouting. But there I was, wandering up and down isles, stocking products from boxes and straightening up shelves. That's when it happened.

"Well hi there, sweetheart." Among the normal droll of customers, his voice stuck out. I'd never felt fear at his voice before, so I wasn't afraid at first. It took a moment for that realization to sink in, for the confusion to manifest into fright. Moving ever so slowly, I turned and looked into the face of my ex dealer.

"Hey, Tix." I said quietly, looking around to make sure my manager didn't see us together. Tix screamed bad news. He was a college dropout who took up selling heroin for income. And business was booming in his territory of east Boston. Dressing well above average, it was obvious he was a drug dealer. In Southie, if you looked nice you were either lost, or a drug dealer. What Tix was doing in Southie, I didn't know. But it couldn't be anything good.

He gave me a large smile, looking closely. At one time, I would have been happy to see him. Our past wasn't unpleasant. Tix had been dealing to me since I was fifteen, and I'd starting sleeping with him when I was sixteen. Since then, he had always been willing to take sex as payment. I like to think it was because he wanted to help me out; the reality: I wasn't a strung out, middle-aged whore. It was a fair trade.

As he grinned at me, I remembered those nights. No matter how good I tried to be, I would always have those memories. I'd still done all those things. The sweaty, drugged-out nights of endless fucking stained my past; and I couldn't outrun them with new clothes and a job. My hand found my elbow and I started to scratch, the itch of shame rising in my faded tracks.

"You look good, baby." He cooed, batting his blonde lashes. Tix was a pretty boy, probably a jock when he was in high school. But he was smart, wickedly so. You had to be in his line of work.

With his big, brown eyes and thick blonde hair, he was definitely a looker. But I didn't see any of that then. I saw a drug dealer, driving way out of his territory to find me.

"Thanks." I said meekly, tugging on the back of my hair. It was so short; I barely got a handful to pull on. But I managed a sincere smile. "Got a little cleaned up." Tix nodded, touching my cheek with a finger. I gulped for air, my nerves making me jumpier than usual.

"I can see that." He purred right back, checking me out while flashing his pearly whites. It didn't help the pounding of my pulse, but I tried to convince myself it was a random run in. He wasn't here for me.

He couldn't be.

"Word is you've been clean for a while." I swallowed, staring into his eyes with growing horror.

"Who said—"

"I started ta miss those late night phone calls." Tix chuckled to himself at his little joke, flicking his tongue over the edge of his bottom lip. My nails dug into my elbow, the pain shooting up my arm but bringing no relief. The longer he looked at me, the longer I knew he was there for me. He had driven across the city to find me, working at a Kmart. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push away my fear.

"I cleaned up after my mother died." His eyes flickered for a moment, as if he hadn't known about her. It was possible. We didn't exactly swap life stories between his sheets. But his smile didn't waver.

"I'm sorry ta hear that." I nodded, retracting my nails from my arm. The last thing I wanted to show Tix was fear. Criminals are like sharks; when they smell blood, they swarm and tear you to pieces. Weakness was unacceptable.

"Thanks." Moving towards the front of the store, I attempted to draw myself out into the open. My instincts told me to run, but my pride demanded I walk. I wasn't going to make a fool of myself, fleeing from –what appeared to be– a harmless man. Taking small steps, I focused on my breathing as I turned down an isle. But Tix broke my concentration when he took hold of my upper arm. As I froze, the air choked in my throat.

"Let's take a ride." I stared at his hand as it gripped my arm. It wasn't a rough grab, but it was insistent.

I should have run.

"Tix, I gotta—"

"For old time's sake." He added. His smile was fading and my heart was rising into my ears.

"I really can't." I could barely hear my own voice. I could stand up to Rick, and even Billy, but I couldn't find that strength as Tix towered over me. I'd slept with him, opened myself to him in the most intimate way possible, yet all I felt was fear.

I should have run.

"Harley…" He snorted and looked around, grinning to himself. Then he pulled me closer, wrenching me by my arm. "I wasn't askin." Something hard touched my side and my throat closed in horror. Whatever he had pressed to my underarm, it was cold. I started to shake in his grasp.

"Please don—"

"Shut up." He muttered, pressing harder on the thing in my side. It was sharp, a knife. Holding in the urge to blubber for mercy, I merely nodded and blinked back tears. Without another word, he guided me to the back of the store. There was an exit for employees, and he forced me through it, holding me tight to his body. "Just wanna talk a lil' bit about Billy Darley."

In the back alley, I saw the car and I let the fear out. Tears flowed down my face but I couldn't bring myself to make a sound. I couldn't breathe. It was Billy's abduction game all over again, only I didn't have the luxury of being knocked out. I was going to watch this unfold, live through every single detail. I would have to watch him tie me up.

Panic seized my limbs and I started to thrash in his hold, trying to tug away from the car as we neared.

"Tix, don't." I muttered, flailing my arms in an attempt to worm from him. But the knife pressed harder into my underarm, the soft flesh searing in pain. He grasped my shoulder and used his body to trap mine, shoving me to the passenger's door.

"Shut up."

"You don't wanna do thi—" My voice was shaky from tears but my volume remained calm. There was a chance he'd see what I meant, I wasn't willing to abandon hope.

"Oh I do, Harley." He growled, opening the car door. "I've wanted leverage on Darley for years, no way I'm passing that up now." Leverage. The word sent shockwaves through my brain and panic took hold. Planting my feet on the asphalt, I scraped the bottoms of my shoes in an attempt to resist.

"I won't get ya anything, Tix. I don't know an—" Apparently, my feeble attempt at escape was enough. Tix brought the knife to my face and I shut my eyes, whimpering with defeat.

"I'm not gonna say it again." As he lowered the shining blade, the back door whined. One of my coworkers stepped out into the dark alley, cigarette in hand, and Tix whirled to look at him. I saw my chance and I took it. A scream burned my throat and my ears rang.

Then my face turned cold and I heard nothing at all.

* * *

><p>I'd never been punched in the face before. You'd think it was something I would have experienced by then. I'd partied until I was shitfaced, surrounded by angrier, drunker people. Yet somehow, I'd never been on the receiving end of a punch to the kisser.<p>

Until Tix hit me, that is.

And let me tell you, it wasn't a pleasant thing to wake up to.

Before I was even fully conscious, I knew my cheek was bleeding. The skin felt tight, stretched too far on my face. Moving my mouth, or even opening my eyes, made the pain swell up. The area felt crusty, breaking apart when I disrupted it.

So when I opened my eyes, I was immediately tearing up.

"I don't remember ya bein' such a cry baby." Tix was teasing again, his tone relaxed compared to the harsh voice he'd used in the alley. Blinking in the dark, I realized we were outside. I could smell dirt, and the air was cold from the night. The moon was the only light source, and it was barely visible in the clouds.

"Ya never hurt me before." I hissed back. The pain in my face brought a writhing anger into my gut. I couldn't help but seethe up at him. My arms were loose at my sides but my feet were taped. Tix was comfortable, it seemed, in barely constraining me. Propped against the side of his car, I was sitting on the ground before him, staring straight ahead at his knees. He changed this, however, when he squatted to look into my face.

"You screamed." I wrinkled my nose, baring my teeth. Warm tears were stinging over my cheek, fueling my anger further.

"I hope Billy guts you." Honestly, I don't know where that came from. But it was how I felt. Actually, I wanted to do the gutting myself. I definitely don't have the stomach for something like that, but in those moments, I thought I did. Tix found this amusing and grinned, reaching out to touch the tip of my nose.

"Sure ya do." I wrenched away, sliding against the metal body of the car.

"Don't touch me." I muttered, wiping away tears with soft swipes. I didn't try to examine the left side of my face, pain radiating furiously from my cheek. Tix sighed and stood up again.

"I liked ya better high." He murmured, crossing his arms. "You were more fun." I refused to answer, glaring at my feet as he loomed above. "I was hopin' you'd be happy ta see me." If he'd found me a few months ago, I probably would have been. But now, I was seeing a side of Tix I had never known existed. He had an ugly side, just like all criminals, and he was letting it show.

"Maybe a little of this might cheer you up." I glanced up out of curiosity as he pulled something from his pocket –a plastic baggy– and a duality of emotion surged through me.

On one hand, I felt a spread of warm relief. Heroin had been my friend for a long time. It had saved me; as skewed as that was, it was true. Before I'd turned to drinking and drugs, I'd contemplated worse things, suicide being one of them. I had hated my life, and ending it had seemed like the only escape.

Then I'd met heroin, and that changed. The drug took me away to a happy place, where I was warm and free. That's why I'd so easily become addicted. Heroin became my life. So seeing it, even after months of being sober, made me happy.

But there was a counterpoint to that happiness: desperate fear. My own elation towards the drug terrified me. I didn't trust myself to refuse Tix's offer, because I wanted it. I had wanted to shoot up for months. Even though I'd tamed my demons, they were still screaming from their cages. And I wanted to free them, so badly. The pain throbbing in my face added to those impulses, reminding me of what heroin could do. It would take me away from all of my problems. I'd be happy again.

"Fuck you." I hissed quietly. Even I didn't buy the tone of my voice. Tix snorted and squatted again, dangling the bag in my face.

"We could, baby. Just like old times." It took me a moment to realize I was shaking. My body was physically torn by the decision. I wanted to nod my head, roll over like a good dog and wag my tail. But something kept me upright, made me angry. My anger was making me strong.

"No." His face fell into a solemn, flat expression. When he spoke again, his voice was stony and low, grinding from his lungs.

"Since when do you say no?" It was a rhetorical question and it made me burn with shame. Then, without warning, he grabbed a handful of my hair and smacked my head against the car. I gave a small cry and he leaned forward, hissing angrily into my ear.

"Don't bother screamin'. No one'll hear ya." I blinked through new tears, stinging from the corners of my eyes. The blow to my head made spots dance in my vision, darting around like tadpoles in a pond. Gulping for air, I tried to remain focused. "Not even big brother can save ya now." I closed my eyes, holding back the sobs. My anger started to wither and the strength feebly followed. Tix snorted, tightening his fist in my hair.

"Hookers have big mouths and your little police run-in was a popular story." I replayed the scene from the police station in my head, cursing myself for being so cocky. I should have played along, pretended I was screwing Joey. Then maybe I would still be at work, stocking shelves at minimum wage. "Imagine my surprise, finding out you were a Darley."

"I'm not a Darley." I murmured, eyes still closed. Tix snorted and suddenly my face was burning with pain. I shrieked as he pinched my split cheek, my eyes popping open. Then he pinned my head back on the car, tugging on my hair. Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, he held them in my face.

"This…" Opening the two fingers, he revealed my scarlet blood, drying quickly in the grooves of his fingerprints. "…this says you're a Darley." I held my breath, staring up at his blank expression. My heart was racing against my ribs, making me dizzy with fear. Tix took his time, staring right back at me for over a minute before he stood up. Walking across the dry dirt around us, he disappeared behind his car.

"And what better way to send a message…" He moved slower when he came back, his stride intentionally delayed. I watched him close the trunk and slip around the side of the car. First I saw his shoes then his legs, his body revealed to me piece by piece in the dim moonlight. But the last thing I saw stopped my pulse: a baseball bat propped casually on his shoulder.

"Than with a little blood?"

* * *

><p><strong>HELLO. IM BACK. sorry for the delay. My life is a series of interruptions and readjustments…and getting back into the swing of school and work has cost me a lot of free time. Plus when I'm exhausted, my inspiration seems to die. BUT I'm getting there! Hope you enjoyed. I ended up scrapping my original plans…so this took some time to cook up. Apologies for the cliffhanger, but A.) I love them B.) I'm evil. and C.) I really didn't want to put off publishing any longer. I owe you guys. <strong>

**SHOUT OUTS: Love to my amazing reviewers! You guys brighten my day. :D  
>Dancing-Pinky-Flower, xoShortee93, Sparkly, CupKatyCakes, and gitarr<br>Thank you thank you thank you! Hugs and love to all, even the silent. **

**More soon! promise. Forgive any mistakes, I'm proofreading through my eyelids. ;)**


	24. Coulda Woulda Shoulda

There's something about our hands that we overlook. Our fingers are the second-most sensitive part of our bodies. When we cut them, or break them, it's more than painful. There's an element of mutilation. A crushed thumbnail can have more impact than a kick to the ribs.

And Tix started with my hand.

* * *

><p>Baseball bat over his shoulder, he hauled me from the ground, pinning one arm behind my back. I wormed and yelled, but his grip only intensified. Twisting my arm higher, he didn't budge as my yells became screams of agony.<p>

"Give me your hand." Tix snarled into my ear, bending me over the hood of the car. His hips were planted into my backside, giving me no wiggle room.

"Please—" My body shook with terror and my tears left trails in the dirt on the hood. But he didn't ease up.

"GIVE ME YOUR HAND!" He twisted my arm harder and I screamed, the pain stabbing every nerve. At that moment, I couldn't even form a coherent thought. I just wanted the hurt to stop. I couldn't even suck down a breath, my chest collapsing in on itself.

He gave me time to scream, my voice filling air. But nothing came of it. No one was around for blocks. Tix had seen to that. He could do what he liked with me. When I had no air left, he leaned down into my ear and spoke plainly.

"I will break every bone in your arm if I have to." I whimpered, closing my eyes. His tone was devoid of feeling, or empathy. I was going to die. "Now give me your hand." With little choice left, I slid my hand up onto the top of the hood. Tix rubbed his face into the back of my neck, breathing deep as he held me still.

"Good girl." Then he yanked my arm further up my back. Something snapped and suddenly I couldn't think. It was only blazing pain. My legs collapsed beneath me, going slack against the side of the car. Heat seared up my limb and Tix dropped it. Nothing I did bought me a bit of relief. I screamed and sobbed. He held me there, like he couldn't hear me. Then suddenly, I was being dragged.

My body was like a sack of flour. The moment he stepped away, I slumped against the car and fell, hitting the dirt. But he kept a grip on my hand, pulling me away. All the while, he said nothing, walking silently as I screamed and cried, my arm hanging uselessly at my side as I was raked across the ground.

Not too far from his car, he stopped and dropped my hand. Before I could react, Tix stepped on my good wrist, trapping it to the ground.

"I don't like doin' this shit, ya know." He muttered, scuffling his other shoe. "But your brother needs a lesson."

From here, I can't really explain how it felt. I could name every adjective in the dictionary, and it still wouldn't describe the misery. I can only tell you what happened.

He broke two of my fingers in the first blow. The bat was wooden, so it made a dull thwacking sound when it came down, crushing the small bones and breaking open my skin in the matter of a second. He didn't even ask me anything; he just raised the bat again.

That's when he shattered the other two fingers.

I remember my blood mixing with the dirt, coloring my hand in a dark paste. It looked like it didn't belong to me. It wasn't my hand; it was a mess, a puddle of skin and bones.

The bat came down on my back, my stomach, across my arms and legs, but not my face. I kept expecting it, keeping my good arm in front of my head. But he never tried. Tix beat me everywhere else until I was in too much pain to make a sound. My pulse throbbed all over my body, blood spilling and sticking to my clothes. The air in my lungs wheezed out, scarlet droplets dribbling over my lips. I hardly noticed when he'd stopped. Everything was spinning and I prayed to pass out. I wanted to fall into the dark. But something kept me awake.

"Ya looked real good, Harley." He murmured, circling quietly. I closed my eyes and focused on the black. The body starts to produce it's own painkillers in moments of extreme pain. But that relief wasn't coming. Then his hands appeared on my hips, tugging on my jeans.

"No." I whined the word from my chest, kicking in a weak attempt to fight back. Tix easily stripped the pants from my legs and moved onto my shirt, peeling it from my torso. I cried silently into the ground, cradling my limp arm to my body with my mangled hand. Curling up into a fetal position, I wanted to die. I welcomed death at that point, trembling in the cold and bleeding in the dirt.

But I didn't die. In fact, to my surprise, he started to walk away.

Opening my eyes, I watched Tix get into his car and start it, driving away without a word. Nothing. One moment he was there and the next all I could see were headlights, fading into the distance. Gingerly sitting up, I hugged myself as best I could, shaking wildly in the cold.

"Help." I whimpered the word, almost to myself. Everything hurt. Tears flooded my vision and I gave a shrill sob.

There I was, alone in my underwear.

"HELP ME!" I screamed with closed eyes, crying out into the dark. Who knows where he'd left me. From what I could tell, it was on the coast, probably near the docks. The water sloshed in the distance and the city glowed on the horizon. When no one answered my call, I placed my broken hand on the ground, yowling as I pushed myself to my feet.

Standing on wobbly legs, I wondered what he'd done to my arm. It didn't obey any commands, still as death against my chest. I cried for a moment, lamenting my injuries. My hand would never look the same, and I had no idea what other damaged he'd inflicted.

"I just wanna go home." I whimpered between sobs, shivering in the night air. "I wanna go home." Aiming for the glow of streetlights, I started forward, repeating those words over and over.

I didn't get far: I couldn't feel my toes, my arms were throbbing, and I was shaking uncontrollably. Eventually I gave up. Kneeling down in the dirt, I carefully lay on my side. Sleep sounded like a wonderful thing. I thought about warm blankets and soft pillows. It only made me cry harder, but I hurt too much to try anymore. I just wanted to sleep.

"HARLEY." In the far distance of a dream, I heard the pounding of boots and the growling of engines. "HARLEY." I didn't open my eyes. It was a cruel thing, the mind, teasing me with the idea of being saved.

"HARLEY!" I curled up into a smaller ball, praying the voices in my head would leave. When the sun would rise, I'd find my way back into town. But for now, I just wanted to sleep. Sleep sounded heavenly.

"HARLEY!" Suddenly, Joey was there, kicking up dirt like a sandstorm as he fell to my side. I couldn't believe it was him at first, my mind utterly delirious with exhaustion. But his body was warm, and his voice rang in my ears. "Jesus Christ." As he softly whispered, his hands hesitantly grazed my back. I was probably covered in bruises, leaving him afraid to touch me, to move me.

"Joey." Blinking weakly, I tried to roll over, but the movement only resulted in splitting pain. My voice, however, brought him closer, leaning over my body. I sighed from his proximity, his strong body heat. He was real. I was saved.

"Thank fuckin' Christ." He whispered. I'd never imagined Joey as gentle, but he cradled me in his arms like a mother holds a baby. "You're like goddamn ice." As he sat me upright, there were more thundering steps and a blur of faces.

"I wanna go home." I murmured, reaching to wrap my mobile arm around his neck. Joey hugged me close, helping me to my feet.

"Whatever ya want, Todd." He said softly, pressing his cheek to my forehead. As we stood, the approaching faces cleared: Bodie and Baggy.

"Holy shit." Bodie was the first to speak, his eyes falling on my bloody hand. In contrast, Baggy said nothing, blinking stupidly as my brother tucked an arm under my knees and plucked me from the ground.

"Get outta the way." Joey muttered, starting forward over the uneven dirt. Bodie shook his head.

"Holy shit." I couldn't help the weak smile that fluttered on my lips. Maybe my pain was numbing after all. Or maybe the comfort of being found was enough to ease. "We gotta take 'er to the Roses."

"She wants ta go home." Joey barked over his shoulder, carrying me like I weighed nothing. I could hear Bodie's displeasure before he spoke.

"Joe, she can't go back there! She's a fuckin' mess." Looking up at Joey's face, I watched his expression etch into one of extreme resolve. He looked like Billy.

"I'm takin' her home." When Bodie didn't respond, I let my eyes slide closed. I knew that going home wasn't helpful. I needed a hospital, not my apartment. But I didn't care.

"Thank you." I settled my face between Joey's collarbone and jaw, soaking in his warmth. His hands flexed, as if to squeeze me closer, and I knew what he meant.

He was grateful too.

* * *

><p>When he got me home, Joey did his best to play nurse. With the gentlest touch, he taped my fingers, cleaned my face, and helped me into a fresh set of clothes. I was numb the entire time, staring and hearing nothing. Bodie was on the phone and Baggy was watching like a bodyguard, studying every bump and bruise as Joey pieced me together. I don't know how long we were at the apartment. It could have been hours or it could have been twenty minutes. I feel like I didn't blink the entire time.<p>

Billy was what broke my trance.

As always, he entered the apartment like an army of one, throwing open the door. I jumped like a bomb had gone off. Though his entrance was loud, and his presence put the entire room at attention, my eldest brother said nothing. Billy stood there, huffing in the doorway. His eyes moved slowly from my legs to my hand, ending on my face. His lips twitched with fury as he stared, jaw bulging as he bit back impulsive words. Then his gaze moved to Joey.

"Who did it?" I swallowed, realizing I hadn't told anyone about Tix yet. Joey had been more concerned with my injuries; he'd let the interrogation slip. But not Billy. He wanted answers.

"Kid from Kmart said it was some blond guy." Joey murmured, standing quietly from the couch.

"Tix." I croaked the word like a frog, swallowing to wet my throat. Billy stepped inside, shutting the door with a shove. Squinting a little, he moved closer, dipping his head to look into my face.

"Tix who?" He growled, his lip lifting in a snarl. I blinked, slowly coming out of my coma. Everything felt surreal. My ex dealer, someone I'd never feared, had beaten me to a pulp. My fingers twitched and I flinched, tucking my unresponsive arm closer in my lap.

"He was my dealer." Billy's brow flattened and Bodie dropped his arms, looking from me to his friend. Their faces made me understand the gravity of the situation. Another dealer had taken a baseball bat to me, the only daughter of Bones Darley.

"Ya know 'im?" Bodie asked quietly, watching Billy carefully from the kitchen doorway. Baggy shifted his weight and rubbed a hand over his face.

"He's from the east side. Irish." He muttered. I didn't know what that meant, but Billy seemed to, his hands clenching into fists.

"Son of a bitch." He growled under his breath. "How the fuck did the Irish find out 'bout her?" His voice slowly escalated into a yell, his anger seeping through.

"It was bound ta get out eventually." Bodie murmured, running his hand over his chin in frustration.

"NOT LIKE THIS IT WASN'T." Billy bellowed, gesturing angrily at me. I flinched away again, causing pain to shoot from my arm. Unable to hold it in, I gave a small whine. Immediately, all eyes were on me.

"Fuck." Joey murmured, watching me cradle the limb against my body. "I think it's fuckin' dislocated." Baggy made a small sound, crossing his arms. Billy looked up at him, his glare ordering an explanation. After a moment, Baggy hesitantly spoke up.

"I did it a coupla times when I played." I didn't know much about Baggy, but later I learned he'd played football for a couple of years. It had been an outlet for his aggression, but eventually his temper got him kicked off the team.

"Hurts like a bitch." He added. Billy frowned at him, gesturing with a harsh thrust of his hand.

"Can ya fuckin' fix it?" I suddenly felt very uncomfortable with the idea. Having Joey tape up my hand was one thing; having Baggy fix my dislocated shoulder was another. I hadn't met him above twice, and even then we'd never spoken. But he shrugged, eventually nodding.

"Yeah, probably." Probably didn't make me feel any better. When he slowly walked towards me, I had to fight the urge to shrink away. I knew from his facial expression what he was going to do wasn't going to be pleasant. His brows were raised and tilted inward in an apologetic look, incurring alarm rather than relief.

His hands were rough, but he was gentle as he took my hand. Actually, it sort of shocked me into trusting him. Though these men might look gruff, and could be very violent, they also could be soft. They could be kind, caring even.

"This is gonna hurt." Baggy whispered, bending my elbow to a ninety-degree angle. I started to cry, the pain already pretty fierce, but I didn't allow myself to make a sound. Nodding quickly, I closed my eyes, waiting. Slowly he turned my arm towards my stomach.

Then he snapped it the other way.

He wasn't lying about it hurting. It felt like my arm was being ripped from my body and I shouted, despite my best efforts, tears flowing down my face.

"Sorry." Baggy murmured, dropping my hand and moving away. As I took a breath, a steady flow of relief filled my arm. It wasn't painless, but it felt much better; it was similar to restoring blood flow into a sleeping limb.

"He's gonna be pissed." Bodie said, glancing at Billy. Breathing easier, I rubbed my shoulder as the men spoke with stares. In a matter of seconds, I had become invisible.

"Which is why we don't tell him." Billy eventually grunted, shrugging off his jacket.

"That's a bad idea, Bill." Joey shook his head, sitting down beside me on the sofa. "Fuckin' bad—"

"Shut up, Joe." Billy hissed back, draping his jacket over the recliner before he sat in it. "This is my call."

"He's gonna find out." Joey said, his voice rising in frustration. "Then he's gonna beat the shit outta both of us."

"I said SHUT UP." Billy barked back, gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white. Listening in silence, I studied my fingers. Tix had broken four of them on my right hand, snapping the tiny bones at various points. Joey had taped them straight then taped them into pairs. I wouldn't be able to use them for weeks, one hand rendered completely useless.

"He didn't ask me anything." My voice was barely a whisper compared to the echoes of my brothers' shouts. Joey looked down at his feet and Billy blinked at me slowly. They were worrying about what to do next when I still didn't understand what had already happened. They'd left me behind. "He said he was sending a message." I whispered, tears running down my cheeks. Trembling with silent sobs, I looked directly into Billy's eyes.

"Why?" My brother's eyes glazed with rage, color rising into his cheeks. I fed off his anger, taking deeper breaths to steady myself. It was quiet for a while as Billy and I stared.

"He shoulda killed ya." His response took the air from my lungs, shock mixing with hurt. But Billy wasn't looking at me when he said it; he was staring at the floor, his eyes shadowed until they didn't look like eyes at all. They were black, sunken holes.

"He shoulda killed ya, because now…now I know who he is. And I'm gonna kill him."

* * *

><p><strong>More soon. Love to all my readers and BIGGG HUGGSSS to xoShortee93 and Dancing-Pinky-Flower! Hope you enjoyed. :)<strong>


	25. To Belong

I wasn't given much of a narration after Billy stormed from my living room. I'm sure there were orders and plans, but I wasn't brought into the loop. All I can tell you is what little I observed.

After his ominous proclamation, my brother paced in the kitchen, growling with his best friend. I didn't listen. I was too tired to listen. All the adrenaline and pain had drained me thoroughly; and now that I was surrounded by angry, territorial criminals, I felt more secure than Fort Knox. No one was pledging to avenge my honor, like an old western, but they were pissed. Joey hadn't been further than five feet away since he'd found me; and Bodie wore his fury on his sleeve. Settling into Joey's embrace, I was happy to let my eyes droop closed. With the new relief in my shoulder, sleep was easy.

And as I slept, I had a dream.

It seemed to last only a few seconds, appearing from darkness. First there was the sound of wind. It whistled around my ears with the sigh of swaying grass. Quiet and peaceful. Then there was the dirt. Hard and dry against my cheek. A gust of wind blew a fine dust into my face and I blinked.

I was lying down on my side. There was dirt, speckled with grass as far as I could see and the ground met the black sky in a solid, clean line. Staring numbly at the serene scene, I sighed, the breath from my nose blowing a few blades of grass across the earth.

Then without warning, a baseball bat, swinging straight for my face.

"NO!" I bolted upright and screamed groggily, wincing at the thrashing movement. My heart was racing and sweat beaded on my forehead. Yet there wasn't a baseball bat, there wasn't any threat.

There was only a startled boy, staring at me with wide eyes. I blinked, my good hand slowly moving to tuck the blanket back around my body. He wasn't really a boy. The longer my eyes adjusted to the dark, the more I realized I'd mistaken him for someone much younger. He was short, but he was about Billy's age. On one side of his face, a black tattoo curled around his eye. Sitting in my recliner, he studied me the same way I stared at him.

"What's wrong?" Joey's voice broke out from down the hall, footsteps thumping along the carpet until he appeared. Dripping from a shower, he'd thrown on a shirt and boxers in a rush, the moisture darkening the fabric in patches.

"Just a dream." I murmured, trying to calm him with a smile. But my face panged from where Tix had hit me and I winced, gingerly touching my cheek. "Sorry." Joey ran a hand through his wet hair.

"Don't apologize to me." He murmured, dropping his hand with a sigh. "You've got nothin' to be sorry for." We exchanged a small smile before he nodded to the man in the recliner.

"Ya met Tommy?" I shook my head slowly and Joey made a lazy gesture between us. "Tommy, Todd. Todd, Tommy." I smiled shyly at Tommy and he responded with a nod.

"Sup." Looking back to my brother, I sat up on the arm of the couch, careful to keep my hand still on my lap.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Billy was nowhere in sight, along with Baggy and Bodie. Joey vanished for a moment, rustling around in the bathroom. Tommy stared at me, awkwardly silent before he murmured a response.

"They're gonna grab—"

"Don't worry about it." Joey returned in a flash, cutting Tommy off with a pointed stare. Holding out a fist, he opened his palm, revealing two white pills. "Take this." I took the glass of water from his other hand, but hesitated to take the pills. When I didn't reach for them, he gave me a crooked grin and wrinkled his nose. "It's just Tylenol."

"Thanks." I took and swallowed them with a small smile, drinking heartily from the glass. It felt like heaven: cold, clean, and crisp. I practically inhaled the entire glass, panting lightly when the water was gone. Joey raised an eyebrow.

"Want some more?" I nodded and he retreated to the kitchen, filling the glass from the sink. As he left, I noticed sunlight peaking through the blinds. Frowning, I hesitantly turned on the couch. My body ached, but it wasn't unbearable. In fact, I was surprised by the lack of pain. So I pushed myself. Placing my feet on the floor, I stood and moved to the window.

Spreading the blinds, I blinked back the bright sun. I must have slept through the morning, because it was well past noon. A few people wandered up and down the sidewalks, enjoying the gorgeous day. I wanted to sit in the sun. Finding the little wand, I opened the blinds and let the warm light stream across my face.

"Ya hungry?" Joey asked, coming up behind me with the full water glass. I thought for a moment, concentrating on how I felt. It was odd that I had to think about it. But as I tuned into my body, I felt as though I was waking up.

My cheek was sore, my back hurt each time I took a breath, my hand itched and throbbed beneath the dressing, and my shoulder was still very sore. With a small shake of my head, I answered his question. My stomach didn't hurt. And food didn't sound appetizing. Moving away from the window, I took the glass and sipped. There was a taste in my mouth. Something I couldn't quite place.

"Ya slept for a long time." Joey murmured, crossing his arms as he leant against the couch. "I wanted ta move ya, but…" His gaze fell on my hand and I nodded in understanding. He was afraid of hurting me. No doubt my body was littered in sore spots; and his hands, no matter how gentle, wouldn't be able to avoid them.

"It's ok." I whispered. "I just want a shower." Despite the obvious scratches on my body, hot water sounded like it would feel amazing.

* * *

><p>Joey had to un-tape my fingers. It hurt a ridiculous amount, but under that water, I wasn't thinking about how it felt. I was thinking about how it looked. I cradled my broken hand in the palm of the good one. My fingers were shaking even when I held them still. The dried blood was brown on my skin and the long digits weren't straight lines any longer. They were bent and crooked. It was hard to even look at them; my broken fingers brought tears to my eyes. In the hot water, I let them ran down my face.<p>

I was toweling off in the bathroom when I heard the front door open. Standing in nothing but my skin, I listened as voices clamored into the living room.

"You gonna tell me what this is?" A woman's voice came first, angrily stomping into the apartment. My brother's voice was next, his thundering bass putting him out from anyone I knew.

"Ya owe me, Jack." He grumbled, his heavy footsteps followed by others. Billy wasn't alone.

"Which is why I let ya drag me across the goddamn city." I recognized Jackie quickly, moving closer to the door to hear the conversation. "But I'm done playin' nice. What is this about?" She muttered.

"Ya know a dealer named Tix?" Billy grunted, hissing the name out with a malicious snarl.

"I know lots of people from the east side." She said eventually. I frowned in confusion from the other side of the door. Jackie worked for Bones yet she knew people from the east side?

"Not what I asked ya." My brother wasn't amused, judging by his tone of voice. I pulled on a t-shirt, tugging it over my wet hair.

"Ah screw you, Billy. Ya know I can't tell ya that shit." I continued dressing, surprised by her fierce reaction. She wasn't afraid of my father or my brother. And that was impressive.

"No, screw you!" He barked back, his voice finally revealing his anger. "Ya cross a Darley, ya die. End of story." Jackie didn't respond, but I could hear Joey agreeing with curses of his own. My face flushed and new tears filled my eyes. But they weren't sad tears, they were something between happy and proud. His words made me a part of the group. He'd called me a Darley. And that was worth a few tears. "This motherfucker is gonna die for what he did."

"The fuck did he do to ya, huh? Call ya names?" Jackie spat back. "Tix is mob, Bill. He's got old man Charlie takin' a cut and that means ya can't touch 'im! Not if ya wanna keep your balls." I was tired of listening through a door. Turning the knob, I stepped quietly out into the hall.

From the reaction, you would have thought I'd set off a car alarm. Everyone turned to look at me and Jackie followed suit, glaring over Billy's shoulder. But her expression softened in an instant.

"Sorry." I murmured, cradling my bad hand to my stomach. Glancing away to Joey, I avoided Jackie's gaze, but I felt it regardless. She made a sound and Billy turned his body, half facing me. Raising an arm, he gestured from my head to my feet as he snarled at Jackie.

"No one gets away with that." The growl permeated the room and left me speechless. Jackie glanced at Billy and rubbed her jaw, sighing as she shook her head.

"Thought those were just rumors…'bout there bein' a sister…" She murmured, looking at me with disbelief in her eyes. "The fuck was he thinkin'?" It was a rhetorical question, and no one attempted to answer it as Jackie absorbed my injuries. They looked worse than they felt, and they felt pretty nasty. The bruise on my face had gotten larger since the night before, yellow and green seeping across my cheeks up into my eye and down to my jaw. My hand was cleaner now, but remained a pummeled mess.

"Tell me how to get 'im." Billy broke Jackie's study with an even voice, playing off the pity strewn across her face. But she shook her head.

"Ya kill him, you'll have a war. Plain and simple." Then she looked into Billy's eyes. "And I'm not about to watch my family destroy my friends." I swallowed from the impact of her words. She knew about the east side because she was the east side.

Unhappy with her answer, Billy hissed a breath through his nose, running a palm over his scalp in a rough swipe as he worked up a yell. We were all bracing for it, knowing his temper. But Jackie suddenly stepped forward, standing chest to chest with him. With a hand held out towards me, she spoke quickly.

"Take her to Charlie." My heart fell into my stomach and my mouth fell open. She wanted Billy to take me where? Joey must have felt similarly, because he charged forward, speaking up after a quite a bit of listening.

"Are you fuckin' INSANE?" He bellowed, jutting a hand in her direction. But Billy threw out a hand, bracing it against his brother's chest. Jackie continued like Joey hadn't said a word.

"Take her to Charlie, tell him what happened." Then she looked at me, lifting her eyebrows in a gentle expression. "Better yet, you tell him." Looking back at Billy, she searched his face. "He's an old man, Bill. He's lived through this shit. He's got children. Grandchildren, even." With a shake of her head, she gestured to me again. "He had nothing ta do with this, I know it. This was all Tix. Him and his coked out skull."

There was a long pause as Billy clenched his jaw in deliberation, staring down at Jackie's piercing eyes. It was interesting to see how much she truly cared. The way she had described Charlie made him sound like family; while at the same time, she was pleading with Billy to see reason and avoid foolishly dying. I remembered her teasing tone with Bones, how comfortable she'd been. This girl was the social butterfly of crime: friends with both sides of the board.

"Sit down with Charlie." She coaxed quietly, dropping her arm to her side with a light thump and moving to the front door. "Trust me." Sniffing for a moment, Billy rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand.

"Bones doesn't know about this." Jackie froze by the door, her eyes widening once again. Then her forehead bunched into a frown.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" When Billy didn't respond, she buried her fingers in her hair, raking them through the blond strands. She seemed to internalize any furious outbursts she could have made and settled for an angry sigh. Grabbing the handle, her hand strangled the doorknob. "Ya can't see Charlie without Bones findin' out. So don't try." Then, pointing a finger at Billy, she lifted her lip in a snarl. "And don't ya fuckin' dare drag me into this shit. If I'd known ya were duckin' your old man, I woulda told ya ta fuck off from go."

"Shut it, Jack. Bones can't afford ta replace ya." She lowered her hand, glaring as Billy brushed off her angry warning.

"Doesn't mean he won't change his mind." Then she threw open the door and slammed it behind her, leaving the echo of her parting words.

* * *

><p>"Who's Charlie?" A few hours later, when the sun was starting to set, Joey sat beside me as I stretched out on my bed. My hand was wrapped tight, lying immobile at my side. It felt good to just lay there, eyes closed in the dimming light. My brother sighed a little, leaning back onto the palms of his hands.<p>

"Charlie St. Claire. Been runnin' since Bones was a kid." I blinked in surprise, glancing over at him.

"Wow. She wasn't kidding, he is old." Joey snorted softly and shrugged.

"If ya have the money, ya have the numbers. Ya have the numbers, no one'll touch you for a long time." I thought about that statement over and closed my eyes again. I didn't know much about the underbelly of Boston, but I knew the stories of the Irish Mob. They'd had their hands in everything back in the day. Was it possible they still did?

"So he's a bigger than Bones?" Joey shook his head.

"In numbers, but not in balls. That's why they do business. Better ta make a little money than die." I mulled that over for a moment before I thought about Jackie.

"So who does Jackie work for?" I asked.

"Nobody. She's a free agent." Joey murmured. Opening one eye, I glanced at him as he stared down the hall into the living room.

"Doing what?" He was in a trance, looking into the distance. And it occurred to me he hadn't slept in a long time. Probably since he'd found me. Suddenly I felt guilty for being so curious. What Joey needed was rest, not twenty questions. "Nevermind." I murmured, touching his arm softly. "You need to sleep." He blinked and looked at me, as if realizing where he was for the first time.

"Yeah. You're probably right." Standing he slowly walked down the hall, dreaming of my couch, no doubt. "Cars." He murmured groggily halfway down the hall. Looking back at me over his shoulder, he yawned before he clarified. "Jackie steals cars." I couldn't help but grin at him as he stumbled out of sight into the living room. Curling up on my side, I burrowed into the comforter as the room was cast in shadow.

"Jackie jacks cars." I whispered to myself, snorting a small laugh. "That's funny."

* * *

><p>It could have been hours later, or maybe minutes, but I was deep asleep when I felt something brush against my cheek. At first, I thought I was dreaming again, feeling the grass on my face. But the feeling broke through an invisible barrier in my brain, dragging me out of the comfort of sleep. Stirring, it took me a minute to hear him.<p>

"Harley." I could barely see in the dark, but his voice was enough. Reaching up for his face, I heard a small cry whine from my lips. His mouth was on mine in a flash, caressing and soft with a hint of desperation. When he pulled away, Steven stroked his thumb over my sore cheek.

"Are you okay?" I nodded gently, reaching to pull him back. I'd been without him for too long; I craved his kiss, his scent. "Who did this?" He hissed softly, the anger in his eyes shining through in the darkness. It was hard to look at his face, see that protective emotion.

Because I couldn't tell him the truth.

"I…" I whispered, stroking a hand over his stubbly cheek. But there wasn't a lie for me to use. My voice died in my throat. Steven inhaled angrily and I sat up, using my good hand to push me upright.

When his eyes found my bandaged hand, the situation changed. One second he wasn't breathing, wasn't moving, staring at the white medical tape. The next, he was charging down the hallway, his broad shoulders swinging back and forth with each stride. I tried to hurry after him, but I was still very sore and in need of more Tylenol.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Steven's bellow shook the walls, making me jump slightly as I finally made my way out of bed. Moving faster, I trotted into the living room.

Joey was wide-eyed and squirming against a wall, Steven pinning him there with a grip on his shirt.

"Get the fuck offa me!" My brother muttered, sleep holding back any real ferocity he could have had. He must have been fast asleep for Steven to just walk inside the apartment in the first place. This was a rude awaking for my exhausted bodyguard.

"Steven!" I yelled, rushing to Joey's aid. Putting my hand on Steven's shoulder, I spoke gently to them both. "Joey didn't hurt me. He's here to protect me." After the two men glared at each other for a few moments, Joey was slowly released.

"Protect you from who?" Steven growled, turning his blazing eyes on me. I glanced at Joey and he frowned, telling me with a solid stare to keep my mouth closed. Steven caught the look and shoved Joey back against the wall.

"The fuck's your problem?" My brother snapped. "She told ya, I'm helpin'." Steven pushed him away and turned to me, leaning down to look me in the eye.

"Tell me who did this." I blinked.

"I can't—"

"Harley." He was stern, like a father scolding his daughter. "Tell me." I bit down on my jaw and gave a small shake of my head.

"I can't."

"Why?" His eyes were a mixture of sad and angry, imploring me with a softer voice. For a moment, I couldn't form a good response. If there were anyone I'd want looking for Tix, it'd be Steven. I knew what he would do for me. I knew how he felt about me. But I also knew where his ultimate loyalty would fall. If I told Steven about Tix beating me, it wouldn't be long before my father would know. And Billy didn't want that.

"Because you belong to Bones." I whispered, touching his jaw lightly with the tips of my fingers. "Not to me." Joey smirked, crossing his arms. Steven lashed out with a hand and grabbed his collar, throwing him up against the wall again.

"YA THINK SOMETHING'S FUNNY?" He roared.

"I think ya need ta get the fuck outta here." All three of us whipped our heads around. Standing in the front door, silent as a ghost until he'd spoken, was Billy. Gun hanging at his side, he blinked calmly at us. "This is somethin' between me, my brother…" He took a breath and his eyes met mine. "…and our sister."

* * *

><p><strong>Goodness, it only took…24 chapters. Heh. Thoughts?<br>LOVE TO MY REVIEWERS! Thank you for being patient with me.  
>gitarr, Sparkly Blue Eyes, xoShortee93, Dancing-Pinky-Flower<strong>


	26. Slow

Billy and Steven snapped and snarled like wolves, growling furious words.

"I'm not moving an inch." Steven was livid, his hand closing around mine as he scowled at my brother. "Not until I get some answers."

"Fuck you, Steve." Their voices were a haze of anger, but I heard nothing. My mind was still echoing a single word. _Sister._ He'd said it, clear as day. Billy had called me his sister and I could barely breathe.

"DID YOU DO THIS?" Steven's fingers grasped my hand as he yelled. And a tear fell from my eye in a blink of comprehension.

"Stop." My voice was a wisp of sound buried beneath the bellows of my brother.

"I SAID GET OUT!"

"Stop." I tried again and Joey was the one that heard me. In the dark apartment, his eyes centered on my face.

"Bill!" He called out over them both. Then everyone was staring at me. I was quiet as a solid stream of tears flowed from my eye.

"This happened to me." I whispered. Steven's face fell like a landslide, all anger and aggression melting away.

"Tell me what happened, Harley." He replied, leaning down to look me in the face. "I can help." Billy didn't like that one bit.

"Harley keep ya mouth shut." He snapped. "Steve, I'm warnin' ya." He snarled.

"ME!" I screamed from nowhere. It was probably the loudest I'd yelled since the docks. I had been alone and helpless there, calling out for help. Now I was yelling above my supposed protectors just to be heard.

I didn't realize I was shaking until Steven ran a hand down my arm.

"Hey…" He was gentle, speaking like I was going to blow up at any sign of trouble. "Take it easy."

"I am the one with the bruises." I murmured, stepping out of his touch. "I'm the one who can't use my left hand." I started to cry, my bandaged hand hanging heavy at my side.

"Harley…" Joey stepped forward and I trembled as I evaded him.

"Do I get to have a say in any of this?" I asked with a snap. I wasn't angry, exactly. I was exhausted. Steven had come for me and I wanted to see him. But my brother was there playing alpha male, forcing him out. I wanted both.

"No." Billy growled. "You get ta go in that room and get ya rest." He ordered, pointing to my bedroom.

"I've rested enough." I muttered. "I'm tired of restin'." Steven, thankfully, remained silent, watching as I stood up to Billy. He'd always encouraged me to show my backbone. It took getting my ribs kicked in to find that courage. But I'd found it.

"Shut it and go to ya goddamn room." He snarled.

"Don't talk ta her like that." Steven stepped in, snarling right back at him. I was quick to move between them, cutting his defense short.

"I want to talk to him." I spoke plainly. "He's gonna stay." My accent grew sharper as my nervousness grew. Despite my irritation with Billy, I was still afraid of him. And I was clearly crossing new territory.

"No." Billy grumbled, meeting me in the middle of the living room. Standing face to face, he stared me down like I was an adversary. "He's leavin' and you're stayin' in that room until I tell ya to come out."

"Quit tellin' me what to do." I snapped, startling not only Billy, but Joey and Steven as well. Though they'd remained fairly quiet, they were keeping close, watching our argument escalate.

"Watch. your. mouth." Billy snarled deep. He was moving into the realm of true Darley fury. Yet I didn't care. I was a Darley too. Deep down, I held the same stubborn anger and I was done being pushed around.

"Bill–" Joey sensed it too and he moved to separate us, like Steven had tried before. But Billy stuck out an arm, blocking him from his line of sight with me.

"Your boy toy leaves." He continued. Steven shifted to no doubt charge, but I beat him to the punch. As Billy stared me down, I stepped forward and met him, toe to toe.

"What are ya gonna do ta me?" I whispered. The room went dead silent as I glared up at him, my face continuing to glisten with tears. "I've been beaten. I've been raped. I've been arrested and I've had a gun pointed at my head." My body shook as I recalled each memory with disgust. "I thought I was gonna die last night." I continued. "I thought I was gonna be found, covered in blood and dirt, buck-ass naked." His expression didn't waver, so I leaned closer, tears starting to burn over my bruised eye. "And it was all because of you."

His brow fell into a straight line across his face and immediately I knew I'd hit a nerve. But he didn't say anything. My point was finally coming across. I'd stared down death for my brother. I'd been brave in the face of the ultimate terror. And it hadn't been some faked abduction. It had been real and raw. My bones had broken and my blood had been spilt. All for my older brother.

"Now all I want is for him to stay." I barely whispered the end of my plea. My voice was choked by the tears spilling from my eyes and my lungs begged for a sob. Despite my ballsy speech, I wanted to cry. I just wanted to be heard.

Billy must have been cursing me up and down in his head. Probably had visions of beating my face in. But that wouldn't have been hard to imagine; I was already covered in bruises. Then he growled out a sigh.

"Whatever. But he goes in the morning." He snarled. "If ya don't like it, too bad." I let a smile leak through my lips.

"Thank you." That was something he didn't hear often, so the frown lines on his face loosened in surprise. Then he flicked his wrist, waving the words off like they meant nothing. Shaking his head, he walked into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, helping himself to whatever contents were inside.

Steven, meanwhile, came up behind me, ducking his head to speak into my ear.

Instead of listening, I walked away, down the hall to my room, tired and heavy. I'd lied about one thing; I wasn't done resting. I felt so worn I could probably sleep for days. And Joey would let me, but Billy was ready for action and I was a key player in his strategy.

Steven followed my lead into the bedroom. To my surprise, he didn't close the door once we were both inside.

"So, we gonna talk?" I didn't give him an answer. I sunk into the mattress and curled up on my side. Sighing gently, he crouched beside the bed to look into my face. "Harley." His eyes searched mine, sparkling with questions I wouldn't answer. I had made up my mind. As if he sensed this, Steven let out a sigh and stood. Then, with gentle hands, he scooped me up in his arms and sunk into the bed, settling me on top of him. Enveloped in him, the tension started to fade. The thick, calming fog of sleep intertwined with the warmth of his chest and I melted. It didn't take long for exhaustion to claim me.

So I let it.

* * *

><p>"HEY." Billy's voice kicked me out of a dream and I was staring into Steven's jaw, my knuckles white as I held onto a handful of his shirt.<p>

"Take it easy." He whispered into my ear, stroking a hand over my hair. "Ya tryin' ta make her piss herself?" He snarled at my brother, who scowled in return.

"You're stayin' with Joe 'til Harley and I are long gone." Billy grunted. "Harley. Get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes." I nodded and he ground his jaw for a moment then vanished from the doorframe.

"Goddamn he's an asshole." Steven ground out, shaking his head.

"He doesn't do fluffy." I murmured, grinning when a smile tickled across Steven's face.

"What's happenin' this morning?" He grumbled, ignoring the momentary lift in the conversation. I sighed and sat up, wincing a little as I moved. Steven watched me like a hawk as I slid away from him.

"I can't tell you that." I reluctantly answered, taking a sharp inhale of breath when my feet touched the floor. It felt like I'd been running for years. Every muscle in my body whined against the gravity, hating me for even getting out of bed. Working to still my racing heart, I lifted the bottom of my shirt. But I had to stop, my shoulder shrieking with pain.

"Yes you can. Harley…" Steven was out of bed in a heartbeat, coming up behind me to help me lift the t-shirt. "…tell me." I sighed once the shirt slipped over my head. I couldn't look into Steven's eyes because I knew what I would see. The pain. I'd looked in a mirror the night before; I'd seen the mosaic of bruises on my body. Reaching for a fresh shirt out of my closet, I held it out to him without meeting his gaze.

"We have some business." He slid it gently down my arms, ducking to force eye contact.

"Business with who?" I shook my head.

"I've told ya more than you should know already." I muttered, walking away and fixing my hair with one hand.

"Fuck this." Steven hissed. "I don't like it. I'm comin' with ya. Whether fuckin' Billy likes it or not." With a sigh, I faced him.

"Do you remember the day we met?" I whispered.

"Yeah, course." Shuffling forward, I touched his chest, fanning my good fingers out over the surface. It was weird, looking at my straight, plain fingers and envying the days when I'd had ten.

"How strung out, scared, hurt…pathetic I was." Steven shifted and wrapped his arms around me.

"Quit callin' yourself pathetic." He grumbled.

"I was letting a bum have his way." I murmured. The room was still with silence. Even Billy and Joey weren't making noise from the living room. It was as if they'd vanished and left us alone. Steven didn't answer, but his grip on my waist reassured me that he remembered. I'd been skinny, dirty, jonesing and an emotional wreck that morning.

"I was giving up." I blinked back a few tears. "Giving up on living. My mother was dead, my brothers had left me to die, and I had nothing left to live for." His hand appeared beneath my chin and Steven tilted my face up to meet his.

"Harley…" But I stopped him with a soft touch of my hand, pressing the pads of my unbroken fingers to his lips.

"Then there you were. You appeared from nowhere and flew to my rescue." He rolled his eyes, his hand gently holding mine and moving it from his mouth. "I used to think that was why I loved you." I murmured, more tears threatening to overflow from my eyes. I'd never told him I loved him and I felt him grow very still.

"Harley…" He tried again but I shook my head.

"I crave you and now I realize…" I hesitantly glanced up at him. His face was lined with the same emotions that were causing me to well up. "…you've become my new drug." His expression cracked and he cupped my jaw.

"Come on, Harley. That's not true." I nodded, my eyes stinging with the need to cry.

"It is." I barely managed to squeak the words with my choked voice. "I let myself get too dependent, needy… and then you weren't there." Steven pulled me closer until my head was tucked between his jaw and his chest.

"Stop it." He whispered. I was hurting him and that wasn't what I had set out to do. This wasn't about making him feel bad; it was about him understanding. I was leaving with Billy. Alone. I was going to the other side of town and meeting a very powerful man. Without my father and without Steven.

"It's not your fault." I murmured, pulling back to touch his face. "You had a life. I disrupted it. I'm the one that wanted you all the time." He was breathing hard as he held me, no doubt holding back emotion. Steven was good at that. Hell, all the men in my world were good at that. But I could feel his frustration all the same. "I wanted something that wasn't available."

"Stop." He hissed through his teeth. Too far. I'd pushed him to the edge. Looking up, I saw his shimmering eyes and I stopped. Stroking his cheek, I pressed my forehead to his and waited. I waited until his breathing had become even. After long minutes of silence, I gave him a tiny, sad smile.

"A few nights ago, I thought I was going to die." I whispered. "I was lying on the ground, in pain, and I was praying to be saved. But I realized the only person who could save me, was myself." Steven frowned and I tucked my hand into his blond hair, combing my fingers through the strands. "I had to depend on myself because no one else was there in the dark. I had to fight for myself." He broke.

With a blink, Steven unleashed the frustration inside of him and took my face in both hands. Grasping it, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine.

"I will always be here. I promise." Kissing his cheek, I shook my head.

"No. You won't be." I gave him another weak smile. "And it's not fair of me to ask for that. I need to stand up on my own sometimes. I need to do this on my own." Then, stepping away, I picked a zip-up hoodie from the closet and slid my good arm inside. Steven helped me into the second sleeve but said nothing. When I was dressed, he just stared at me.

I'd won.

"I'll be fine." I said with a tired smile. "Billy will be there."

"Let's go!" Billy barked from the front door and I turned to leave. But Steven snagged my good arm and pulled me back, holding my head in one hand as he captured my lips in a soft kiss. It wasn't a short kiss. He was gentle but commanding, taking my breath away in a matter of seconds.

"Now!" My brother's impatience broke the embrace from a distance and Steven shot a look up the hallway.

"Fuckin' asshole." He muttered under his breath. I only rolled my eyes, planting a quick peck on his cheek before I followed Billy out to the car.

* * *

><p>Brennan's sat on the main strip, right off the exit in east Boston. Known for the terrific sandwiches and endless coffee, the locals filled the booths daily. Everyone had a regular and everyone knew the owner.<p>

And the owner was Charlie St. Claire.

Sixty-eight years old, Irish, and father of six; on paper he was the perfect businessman. But everyone knew the truth. Charlie ran the east side of Boston with an iron fist. When a body dropped, Charlie either knew about it, or had ordered the job himself. If you lived on the east side, you took your problems to Charlie. He had hands in the police department, the courts, the banks…anywhere you could think of. He also had hands in every criminal deed in the area. The drug dealers paid him for protection. The bank robbers paid him a cut for silence, and the chop shops paid him for talent.

Charlie owned everything. But it had all started with Brennan's.

Billy pulled up in the parking lot, throwing the car into park with a rough shove. But I was surprised when he simply sighed, dropping his hands to his knees.

"This is stupid." He grumbled, staring through the windshield. I shrugged and looked out the window. On accident, I caught my reflection in the side mirror and I flinched. The bruise on my eye was huge. Some of it had faded to a greener color where it had once been purple, but the effected area was continuing to grow.

"I should be guttin' that idiot. Not sittin' here." Billy muttered, watching me as I touched the perimeter of my bruise.

"I should have covered this up." I replied. I looked like a punching bag, walking around on two legs.

"Lemme see." Billy reached across the seat and turned my head, holding my chin in his hand. Staring at my face, he frowned with concentration and I awkwardly looked around, wondering where to focus my eyes. The drastic shift in his treatment of me made everything feel new. I was walking on eggshells, hoping he wouldn't change his mind and hate me again. "Looks a little better." He murmured. "Jack said ya should look like shit anyway." I hid an eye roll as he released me and fidgeted in his seat. Still the same old Billy. At least now he wasn't insulting me to hurt me.

"You think this will work?" I murmured, rubbing my arm right above my broken hand. It had started to hurt the minute we'd left the apartment and now it threatened to worsen. Maybe the painkillers had faded from my system. Or maybe my nerves were trumping their effects.

"No fuckin' clue." Billy replied.

* * *

><p>"What can I get ya?" With her big hair and motherly face, our waitress looked like she had leapt right off the front of a cookbook. She had zeroed in on us the second we'd walked inside and instantly she'd become my foster mother, asking me if I wanted some off-menu tea or aspirin. And she didn't feel the need to hide her disdain for Billy. Jumping to conclusions, she'd assumed he was the cause of my swollen eye and she'd been short with him the moment he'd sat down. I wanted to warn her, to let her know he wasn't to blame, but Billy didn't seem to care about her judgments. Currently, she was asking for his order, her eyes glaring down at him, full of disapproval.<p>

"Coffee." He grumbled, rooting around his jacket for a cigarette while I glanced over the menu for the hundredth time. Everything sounded good, but my brother would give me a look for anything extravagant. When our waitress turned to me, she smiled with sad eyes, no doubt cooing at me in her head.

"And you honey?" I gave her a half smile and fell on a default.

"Turkey club." I said meekly, handing her my menu. She nodded and made a show of scribbling it down on her little notebook.

"Half or whole?" She purred.

"Whole." Billy barked before I could, exhaling a fresh lungful of smoke. "And some juice." She didn't face him, but made the notes on her pad. Her writing, however, was less enthusiastic. "And we're gettin' it ta go." He added, taking a drag. The waitress looked at me and I nodded, thanking her when she left. Then I looked to my brother with a raised eyebrow.

"Juice?" He shrugged.

"You're a twig." For a moment, his face almost cracked into a grin and the atmosphere between us was comfortable. But the waitress returned with his coffee and he was back to scowling.

"We're here ta see Charlie." He grumbled as she leaned over to fill his cup.

"He's not here." She snapped back, giving me a small smile as Billy stared a hole into the side of her face.

"Tell 'im Billy Darley is here to see 'im." He snapped back, settling the cigarette in his lips as she straightened. When she looked at him again, her face had slackened into a neutral expression. He'd dropped the name and she had picked it right up.

"Give me a minute." She murmured. Then she scuttled back to the counter, disappearing into the kitchen. Billy smirked across the table at me, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"Not here my ass." He grunted. I shook my head as he flaunted his size, draping one arm on the seat of the booth and opening up his jacket. But, a couple of minutes later, it wasn't Charlie that walked out of the back.

A young man with blond hair crossed the restaurant and stood at our booth.

"Charlie will see you out back." When Billy rose, I followed and we were escorted like prisoners into the kitchen of the restaurant. As we marched past customers, I didn't miss the looks that were cast in my direction. Women shied away from my face, preferring to stare at my hand while the men blinked at me up and down. I tried to tuck my hand away and turn my face to go unnoticed. But everyone noticed me. Even the dishwashers in the kitchen slowed to glance from the corners of their eyes.

Weaving through them all, I was relieved when the blond pushed open a door. I was the first through, Billy hanging back to follow me, and the blond bodyguard stayed on him like a hawk. But our little parade didn't last much longer. Just outside the door, standing off a brick wall, an older man puffed on a pipe. When I met his eyes, he sighed out a cloud of smoke.

His green eyes were watery with age, a once sharp gaze softening as he absorbed my appearance. Then he looked behind me, nodding once to my brother.

"Always wondered if I'd live t'see ya take Southie." Charlie said with a smirk. "Good ta meet ya, Darley." My brother shifted to stand beside me and the blond moved accordingly, watching our every move. But Charlie didn't seem bothered or threatened. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, sucking quietly on his pipe. A cap covered his balding head, but it didn't disguise the age spots that dotted his scalp.

"St. Claire." Billy murmured, nodding once with respect. Charlie grinned and gave a gravelly laugh.

"Ooch, no. The name's Charlie." He purred. "Me father was Mr. St. Claire." Laughing quietly for a moment, he bit down on his pipe and looked from Billy to me, his smile fading. "And that makes ya Harley." I nodded and he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry fer your trouble, m'dear."

"Sorry isn't what we're here for." Billy cut in, crossing his arms across his chest. Charlie reluctantly met his gaze.

"And what is it ya were hopin' fer?" I swallowed and stepped closer to Billy, suddenly very uneasy.

"Ya know what I want." Billy growled. Charlie nodded and took a drag, sighing the smoke out of his nose.

"My niece, Jacqueline, filled me in. Says ya want Tix." I blinked rapidly in surprise. Yet again, Jackie had proven to be more than I'd suspected.

"I don't want him." Billy grumbled. "I'm wanna flay him alive and leave pieces of him all over Boston." I flinched and Charlie turned his gaze to me.

"I see." He said simply. Then he cocked his head to one side. "Yer mother. Went by the name Debra, yeah?" I nodded and he smiled gently. "Don't be afraid ta speak, I won't bite." I cleared my throat.

"Her name was Debra Todd." I said softly, working to keep my eyes on his face. All of my instincts said to look away, but here it was disrespectful to avoid his gaze.

"Right." He murmured. "Pretty girl, she was. I'm sorry fer ya loss." His words struck me and I barely remembered to reply with a thank you. No one had told me they were sorry. My mother had died months ago and the only person who had consoled me had been a cop, going through the motions. A tear welled up in my good eye as I realized this and I brushed it away before anyone noticed.

"Tix is a good dealer." Charlie stated to Billy, cradling his pipe in one hand.

"You've got plenty of others ta promote." Billy growled back. Charlie shrugged and nodded.

"True." But he remained in eye contact with me. "Let me ask ya this. Does ya Da know yer here?" I shook my head.

"He doesn't know what happened." I answered before Billy could interject and Charlie seemed to appreciate that, so he continued.

"Didn't want ta trouble him with yer problems?" He teased gently. I shrugged.

"My brothers were the ones that found me. Not Bones." Charlie processed that for a moment before glancing to Billy.

"I can't give ya what ya want, son." Billy dropped his arms and the blond shifted, ready to spring to action.

"Like hell ya can't." For some reason, fear filled my chest and I started to shake. The idea of Tix going free terrified me. I hadn't thought about the possibility. Charlie noticed my horrified expression and he raised a palm to calm us both.

"I can't give ya me own man. But I can promise ta deal with him." Billy shook his head.

"I don't want ya ta deal with him. I want him dead." Like a switch, the old man's expression suddenly turned razor sharp. Old or not, I felt the chill of Charlie's strength. He was as ruthless as my brother. Age hadn't dulled that one bit, but only made it easier to hide. Billy's frown lessened when he saw the stare. With a single glance, the King of east Boston had quieted us both.

"Like I promised." Charlie spoke deep and slow, leaving profound impact with each word. "He'll be dealt with."

"Time ya went on your way." The blond spoke up, stepping between Billy and Charlie to glare into our faces. Billy ground his jaw, but eventually did was he was told and guided me back to the door. The blond man unlocked it and followed my brother inside. But, at the last second, I spun on out of Billy's grasp. And for a moment, it was only Charlie and I in the alley. His eyes widened slightly as I quickly approached him.

"Slowly." I whispered. The blond reappeared in the doorway and opened his mouth to shout at me, but Charlie raised a hand. He and I exchanged a silent look and I let a shaky breath lose from my chest. I didn't need to tell him what I meant. The dangerous look in his eye told me he understood just fine.

"Slow." He repeated. Then, with a nod, I backed away and ducked into the doorway.

* * *

><p>We didn't hear word until a week later. And even then, it had almost gone unnoticed. The article had been barely a paragraph in the paper. But when Joey held the clipping in my face one evening, that paragraph had reduced me to tears of joy.<p>

**A man was found early Sunday morning, beaten to death outside of the East side docks. Police later identified the man as Dominic "Tix" Costas, a felon convicted of possession in 2001. The investigation is on going, but no suspects have been identified. **

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't an epic story. There wasn't a war. I didn't watch as my brothers avenged me with gruesome fury. But it's a crucial story because it was the beginning of everything. I wasn't an outsider any longer. I'd paid a terrible price, but I'd proven myself. To Billy, to Joey, and to the rest of Boston. I wasn't a nobody. I was blood. People started to recognize me. And all sorts of doors started to open.

A few days after the article, a baseball bat had come for me in the mail. It didn't take much to figure out why it was stained with red. Or why it had pieces that had splintered off. The card inside was unsigned, with only my name written on it. And a single sentence:

_It was slow._

* * *

><p><strong>I'm baaaaack. So sorry it took so long. I know a lot of you were looking forward to Billy taking care of Tix himself, but each time I wrote it, I hated how it went. So I'm sorry if I disappointed you. <strong>

**Anywho, let me know what you thought. And ideas for a happy chapter. HARLEY NEEDS SOME HAPPY! Calling all readers, that is your mission. **

**Shout outs! SO MUCH LOVE to Cotton Strings, gitarr, and xoShortee93! And of course love to you silent folks. :)**


	27. Normal

After the visit to Brennan's a few weeks before, Billy had made some major changes to my living situation. In other words, he'd moved me. In one afternoon, he and a few of his guys had hauled all of my stuff from my run down apartment to another complex in Stokely, a block away from where he lived. The phrase "Big brother is watching" took on an entirely different meaning. He was aware of everything in our neighborhood. He knew everyone's name and he knew everyone's business. Which included mine.

Which also meant he knew a lot more about me than ever. Billy loved to make snide remarks about my habits. How many times I went to the grocery. The number of times I ordered pizza. But his favorite topic had been Steven.

He never grew tired of poking at that.

Billy didn't like Steven to begin with; that had become abundantly clear the night they'd practically ripped each other's throats out in my living room. But now he was confronted with the stark reality that I liked Steven. More than liked. When Steven would sleep over, Billy would steer clear. The moment Steven left, however, my brother would express his displeasure, either in person or on the phone.

I guess you might not consider these conversations, per say. It was mostly Billy grunting questions at me until he got what he wanted. Where are you? Is Joey there? Why is there a dent in your bumper?

Those sorts of things.

He didn't stop by for chats. Billy would always have a reason to visit. Sometimes it was to interrogate; sometimes it was to stare at me with a blank glare. I think it bothered him that he cared.

But that was Billy. And I was glad to have him.

The weeks seemed to move slowly. I suspect this is was mostly due to my activities. Which were none. For almost three weeks, I was confined to my apartment, told to stay indoors unless told otherwise. This meant a lot of sitting, sleeping, and eating. My only visitors were Billy and Steven while Joey practically lived with me. Throughout my incarceration, he was always there, providing some sort of diversion in hopes of lifting my spirits.

My hand gradually healed, and eventually I was allowed to remove my wrappings, slowly training my fingers to move again. The skin never recovered. It scarred where the skin had broken, smooth grooves weaving over my crooked fingers. My hand wasn't pretty, but it worked. And when my hand was strong enough, I wanted something to do.

At three and a half weeks, I finally lost my temper and broke the rules. I went back to work. My managers were unhappy with my unexplained vacation, but they were quieted by my mending hand and face. While the bruises had faded on my face, Tix had scarred me permanently. There was an angry slash through the middle of my eyebrow, hairless and raised. Everyone realized the violence I'd endured when they saw my injuries without anyone having to be told. There were no rumors as to what exactly had happened; surprisingly everything was kept quiet. So, after a few days of awkward silence, things went back to normal at work. People didn't whisper when they spoke to me. In fact, my managers were back to their normal tricks, treating me poorly every chance they got. And I didn't mind. Being treated like a normal person, in a normal job made me feel…

Normal.

* * *

><p>My shift had been a grueling one. Too many customers with bad attitudes had made me wonder why it was I'd even left my house that morning. Billy had made it clear that he would give me whatever I needed. After three hours on the shift from hell, I was beginning to hate myself for not taking up the offer. But I made it through the day and was happy to sit in my car, blasting the air as I drove home. The seasons had taken a firm shift towards the spring, bringing an unnaturally warm wave of heat into Boston. As the sun was setting, the heat was fading and everyone came out of hiding. There were people sitting on their porches, watching the sky turn orange and pink while they drank an evening beer. There were kids frantically playing in the parks, even on the rough side of town, making the most out of the precious hours of daylight left.<p>

I was looking forward to a nice, cold Corona myself, ready to shower and spend the rest of the night on the couch. My feet were tired and I felt the promise of a goodnight's sleep on the horizon.

When I finally made it to the apartment, which was only a five-minute drive from work, I was smiling groggily at the building. Close to work and close to the store, it didn't get much better. My apartment was bigger, my brother had his own room, and I had a mailbox. This was home. Parking my car, I moved sluggishly through the lot and to the front door. It was early enough that people were roaming about, climbing the stairs with their laundry or chatting in the halls. I gave everyone polite nods, knowing full well they all knew who I was.

It was like I had a neon sign on my forehead that said, "Property of Darley: Treat with Care." No one really looked me in the eye. Everyone was nice, and I even spoke to my closer neighbors, but no one fully relaxed around me. Normally, it bothered me. But that night, I just wanted to sit. Sit and slouch and fall asleep a little tipsy.

I had my keys ready before I was even on my floor, shuffling down the hallway to my door. Apartment 212. In a swift, familiar motion, I inserted my key and turned the knob, stepping inside without missing a beat.

And all I saw was ass.

I blinked a few times before my brain could register what I was staring at. It was a girl's butt, big around the hips and trim at the waist. Fair skin, no distinguishing marks of any kind. When my head caught up with my eyes, my mouth fell open and things happened in slow motion.

Her head whipped around, blonde hair swinging and colliding into her cheek. This girl was on my couch, naked from head to toe. She made a face, bunching her eyebrows together and lifting her top lip. I was intruding.

Then Joey's head appeared over her shoulder. A look of tortured exasperation slowly unfolding into 'oh crap'. Oh crap is right. The scene on my couch was suddenly clear and I turned on my heel, staring at the closed front door.

"What the hell!" I shouted, arms stick-straight at my sides. I wanted to shake like a dog after a bath, ridding myself of the images in my head. "JOEY!" There were sounds of rustling and he was cursing under his breath.

"Who's she?" The unknown girl got a word in before my brother could respond. Forgetting the situation for a moment, I turned my head and glared at her over my shoulder.

"This is my fuckin' apartment, that's who I am!"

"HARLEY!" Joey bellowed at me, spinning around quickly so I wouldn't receive a full frontal view. Clamping my eyes shut, I turned my head back around, letting out a shriek.

"The fuck are ya doing, Joey!" I dropped my head forward, my forehead making a solid thunking sound on the door.

"Ya were supposed ta be workin'!" Joey yelled back, his embarrassment manifesting in defensive anger. "Don't ya knock?"

"You're fuckin' some girl in my living room! I shouldn't have ta knock on my own goddamn front door!" I was screaming into the door, flattening my nose against the surface with my eyes still closed.

"I didn't know you'd be home!" Joey was still arguing, though he was obviously in the wrong. "Scared the shit outta me…why are ya home!" My eyes popped open and I whirled around, too angry to be concerned with my brother's state of undress. But his pants were in place and he was pulling a shirt over his head when I turned. The girl was stepping into a skirt, her thong and ass greeting me once again.

"My shift's over!" I answered with a shrill voice, flailing my arms. "You have your own room! Why are ya fuckin' some…" I gestured to the girl as she adjusted her ample cleavage in a tiny, sequined top. "…bar fly on my couch?" She wrinkled her nose and her overly glossed lips popped open.

"Heyyy…" Her whine was cut short when I flattened my brow, shoving a finger towards the door.

"OUT!" Joey made a face, walking to me from beside her.

"Ya don't hafta be a jerk, Todd." I remained pointing at the door, my glare burning holes into Joey's face.

With a sigh, he motioned to the glitter princess and she pouted, following the command without meeting my glare. Apparently, it was clear I could rage. Joey cooed some words to her, running a hand down her back as he opened the door. Then, with a few parting murmurs and a chuckle, Joey gave her ass a quick slap and she giggled down the hall. When the door closed, I shut my eyes and waited.

"I could really go for a burrito right now." And just like that, the rage evaporated and an aggravated roar stuttered its way out of my lungs in a laugh.

"I'm scarred." I grunted, covering my eyes with a hand. "Forever haunted by the image of you fucking some slut on my couch." Joey snorted and his arms appeared around my shoulders.

"I love ya, Todd." He drew me into a dramatic hug, rubbing his cheek into my hair as I let out a shriek.

"God, Gross!" I shoved and he laughed until we were both smiling, our shouting forgotten. Making a face, I managed to pry him off and I scuttled away into the kitchen, shaking my head.

"New rule: no sex on the couch." I called, yanking open the refrigerator to find something to drink. After my screaming, my mouth was extremely dry. Joey snickered from the living room.

"Well someone had to christen the thing." I nearly choked on a swig of water. He slunk into the doorway, grinning at me with his hair all akimbo on top of his head. "Ya know?" The blush in my face burned down my neck as images of Steven crept into my mind. His strong legs flexing beneath me, his head falling back on the cushions, my fingers sinking in to the fabric over his shoulders. Joey's expression faded as he watched me hide behind my bottle of water.

"Little late." I murmured, biting my bottom lip to hold back embarrassed laughter. My brother's proud face fell and he slowly fit the pieces together.

"Ya dirty little…" His expression split into a broad grin and I slid past him, cheeks aflame. "…Nice goin'." I wrinkled my nose as I kicked my work shoes towards my bedroom.

"Thanks." I snorted sarcastically. He chuckled to himself and stretched, reaching his arms high over his head.

"Alright, let's go." He grunted, sighing when he dropped his arms to his sides. Raising an eyebrow, I ducked into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

"Did I miss somethin'?" I asked the mirror, tugging my work shirt over my head and adjusting the tank top beneath. Joey appeared in the doorway, watching as I ran the water, lathered my hands, and washed the day from my face.

"You just scared off my first catch, so we're goin' fishin'." I blindly groped for my towel, yanking it off the rack to dry my face.

"We? Oh no. Not we." I muttered. "I've been workin' all day. I'm tired." Joey rolled his eyes.

"And what, ya think I just sit on my ass all day?" I blinked at him and his brow flattened. He looked just like Billy. Grumpy. I took the opportunity to giggle at him. "Shut up." Joey muttered, leaning in the doorframe. "It's just a drink, not a fuckin' hardship. Ya owe me that much." I rolled my eyes and pushed past him towards my room.

"I don't owe ya squat, Joe. If anything, ya owe me." I closed the door and peeled off my unflattering khakis, slipping into a comfortable pair of jeans. Joey talked to me through the door.

"Fine, just come to the Four Roses. I'll buy you a drink. Fair?" Opening the door, I frowned at him.

"Why do ya need me to go with you?" Motioning into the living room, I gave him a sarcastic smirk. "Obviously you're a decent fisherman on your own."

"With you as my wingman, I'll reel in double." He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes and laughed. His favorite game, using me to make other girls want him.

"Ya know, eventually that'll stop workin'." I muttered, slipping on a pair of flip-flops. "Girls will start to recognize me." He shrugged and grinned.

"All the more reason to take advantage now." With a sigh, I surrendered, pushing him backwards down the hall.

"Fine. But we're takin' your car."

* * *

><p>The Four Roses was at a normal capacity. I grinned to myself as I sat at the bar. Normal. I had gone from never stepping foot in this bar to knowing when business was "normal". Sipping on a Jack on the rocks, I watched Joey play doubles with three girls. His trick had worked, again. With my help, I'd sparked a conversation with a few local high schoolers, all of them wishing for someone to buy them drinks. So the fisherman hooked himself three willing fish in minutes. And by the looks of their drink consumption, he wasn't going to go home alone.<p>

Thank god he was only nineteen. Or was he twenty? I shook my head. Didn't matter; he acted like he was still fourteen, and he barely looked legal. He was the best option in the bar. Otherwise, those same girls would have been stuck with the middle-aged men leering at them from around the room. In their short skirts and tight tops, they were attracting all the attention they craved, and then some.

The gang didn't show up until my second drink. They arrived in small groups, two or three at a time, until Billy walked through the front door with Bodie and Jaime in tow. I knew all their names, smiling shyly at them as they passed. My brother gave me a nod while they all murmured short greetings, disappearing into the booth in the back. Then the girls crawled out of the woodwork and the volume rose.

Sitting at the bar, I chatted a little with Sam, the bartender. He was sweet, but a very dull companion, so I slowly grew bored. I was sipping on a fresh drink when I felt an arm slip under my ribs, wrapping around my waist. Out of surprise, I went rigid, whipping my head around to see. But a rumble of a chuckle and a prickly kiss on my bare shoulder eased me instantly, without having to see a face.

"This is new." Steven purred into my skin, trailing his mouth up my neck until it tickled the spot beneath my ear. A shiver erupted over my body and I held in a sigh.

"What is?" I asked softly, reaching up to brush my hand over his stubble. It was about three days worth, more than normal. And when I met his eyes, I saw how tired he was.

"Seeing ya here." He answered, his second hand on top of mine on the bar. His fingers settled in between my knuckles and he slid them up and down, petting the dips in my hand. Such a simple touch, but it sent a shimmer of sensation through my chest. I tilted my head back and kissed him, chastely at first. But our eagerness eventually deepened the kiss and the noise in the bar hushed slightly. When we separated, I was careful not to look around at who was watching. It was perfect and I wasn't going to let anyone else end that.

"Joey took me out." I tipped my whiskey back, taking a small sip and setting it soundly on the counter. "After I caught him banging some chick in my living room." Steven laughed, head back and eyes closed. I was thrilled to hear his laugh.

"Oh fuck that's bad." He chuckled, shaking his shaggy blond hair around his ears. "Did ya give him hell?" I shrugged and took another sip.

"You know Joey. Ya can't stay mad at him." Steven rolled his eyes and lifted a finger to Sam. The bartender nodded and soon a beer was slid across the counter.

"Not even Billy can be pissed at that kid for long." He murmured, taking a pull from the longneck. I watched him swallow, his eyes closing for a brief moment of appreciation. His skin was darker under his eyes, a defined shadow cast from too much work.

"I told him he was too late to christen the couch." Steven froze up for a moment then winced.

"Shit, Harley." I laughed at his pained expression. He was still trying to hide our relationship when everyone else knew. Even Bones knew and he was the one with a vile temper.

"Oh relax." I muttered, patting his cheek playfully. "It's not like my reputation was at stake." His eyes opened weakly, a sadness spreading behind the warm irises. Then, in a tender embrace, he pulled me into his chest and kissed the top of my head. There was always a sense of regret in him when I talked about the first time we'd slept together. Steven didn't like to talk about it. He didn't like to acknowledge it. I suspected it was because of my age. He wasn't drastically older than I was, but it still bothered him deep down.

For a few minutes we talked idly until my glass was empty. When I went to lift it, to ask for a refill, Steven put a hand over the top of the glass and leaned into my ear, purring in a deep voice.

"You've had enough." I rolled my eyes and slumped against him.

"When are ya goin' ta quit parenting me?" I muttered bitterly, watching Sam pour another round of tequila shots for Joey and the girls. Steven chuckled with a gravelly bass.

"I'm not parenting. I'm bein' selfish." He admitted. Frowning, I looked up at him and saw that his eyes were burning. Burning with a familiar need. "Let's get outta here." He added under his breath, urging me with a tug on my waist. I blushed and complied, slipping from my chair. Steven gulped the dregs of his beer and set it on the bar, fishing out a few bills to pay our tab. Then he nodded towards the back of the bar, dipping his head to my ear.

"Go tell ya brother we're leavin'." I furrowed my brow and sighed. Telling Joey was one thing. But I knew that wasn't the brother Steven had in mind. Glancing over my shoulder, I found Billy's familiar figure, hidden in the dim lighting of the back booth.

"Do I have to?" I muttered, pouting up to Steven's scalding smirk. His fatigue had faded; hunger overriding it. But my whining bought me no reprieve. Lifting one brow, he nodded slowly. "Fine." I grunted, sighing loudly as I walked away.

Billy looked calm, slouched in his seat with his arm draped over a girl with auburn hair. She looked younger than most of the normal prowlers, her face youthful and bright. He saw my approach and smirked, squeezing the girl closer.

"Steven's takin' me home." I announced quickly, standing stiffly at the end of his booth. Billy took one look at me and snorted.

"Ash, this is Harley." He purred to the girl beside him, putting on his best smile. My brother was so different around women. When he wanted them to like him, he was sugary sweet, but just the right amount. It was the dark part of him that drew them in to begin with. There was always a sense of danger with my brother; it lived behind his eyes, coaxing the curious closer until it was too late to run. When he looked back up at me, Billy was flashing me a dazzling smile. "Ash goes ta Boston College." I lifted my eyebrows in surprise.

College girl. Imagine that. He reeled in all kinds.

"Good for you." I said to her gently, trying to hide my exasperation with my brother. I was eager to go home with my own catch of the night. "I'm gonna go now." I restated to Billy, blinking with a bored smile. He waved a hand.

"Whatever." His dismissal meant little except freedom, so I smiled quickly to the rest of the gang, receiving awkward forms of grins from all of them. Then I crossed the bar and grabbed Steven by his jacket, tugging him out the front door.

* * *

><p>By the time Steven was done, I had a burn on my neck from his stubble, a pair of swollen lips, and a very rubbery set of legs. Despite his tired eyes, he had managed to coax me on top of him three times, his fingers clawing into my hips as he praised me from below. He had a way of making me feel like a goddess, powerful and in charge. My past never entered my mind when I was with him. His gentle hands and sweet words had scrubbed those memories clean long ago. When we were crying out for each other, there was no fear, no sadness. Just us.<p>

"I think ya shattered the windows with that last one." He panted at me, stroking my hair as I lay on his chest. Sprawled on top of my bed, we both radiated heat, coming down from a glorious high.

"I was hoping to ruin Joey's night." I murmured. Steven laughed and his chest vibrated beneath my cheek.

"Twice in one night? Ya tryin' ta kill the kid?" He tugged gently on my hair, tilting my face up to his. As I chuckled evilly, he kissed me, slipping the tip of his tongue into my mouth.

"Payback for seeing him stark naked, playin' pony with some skank on my couch." Steven purred in his chest.

"If I remember right, I liked 'playin' pony' on that couch." I smacked him playfully and he snickered, cradling my jaw in his hand. Pushing on my chin with his thumb, he opened my mouth and teased my tongue with flicks of his own, kissing me deep and slow. These were the moments that had made my two-week house arrest doable. My time with Steven kept me sane. Sane and happy.

"I love you." I breathed the words from my lips in a moment of impulse. My brain shouted in terror, scrambling around in my skull as Steven blinked down at me. A second went by; and then another. Suddenly I was nervous, looking down at his chest to avoid his eyes.

"Harley…" I put on my best smile and glanced up at him. He looked like he had the night I'd told him I was addicted to him. Torn. There was a sadness in his gaze, the same one that kept us from talking about our first night together. But there was a fear there also, a hesitation.

"It's okay." I whispered quickly, touching his cheek in reassurance. "Ya don't have to say it too. I just wanted to tell you." He sighed softly, his brows lifting and bunching together. I couldn't hide my disappointment from him, regardless of what I was saying.

"It's just…" He pet my cheek, his eyes tired again. "…you're so young." I closed my eyes and sat up, moving out of his reach.

"That doesn't change how I feel." I muttered, hugging my knees to my chest. Steven sat up and stroked my bare back, settling a kiss on my shoulder. How could he be so tender and not feel the way I did? Tears filled my eyes and I turned my head away, hiding them from his sight.

"I know it doesn't…" He tried to turn my face, his fingers dancing along my jaw.

"I was born eighteen years ago, but I've lived a lifetime." I hissed into my knees, resisting his touch. Steven sighed.

"Harley, I'm twenty-four years old. I was in school when you were born." Whipping my head around, I let the tears drop as I frowned.

"I don't care. You could be thirty and I wouldn't feel any different about you." He took my face in both hands, swiping the couple of salty drops from my cheeks.

"Alright." He cooed, his face softening. But I took his hands away, staring him in the eyes.

"When I had no one, you helped me. You cared when no one else did." Steven sighed, his face slipping from one emotion to the next in silence. Then he wrapped an arm around my ribs, lifting me into his chest. Leaning his forehead to mine, he took a long, soundless breath.

"Harley Todd, I've been in love with ya since the day ya jumped out of my truck in the middle of goddamn traffic." I blinked in surprise and my lips parted. Staring into his eyes, I saw surrender. "You have more heart than anyone I know. Even after years of pain, ya love the people who don't deserve it." I wanted to believe he only meant Bones, but I knew he was also talking about my mother, Billy, and about himself. People who had done wrong. More tears flooded my eyes and I let out a choked sob. "If I haven't said it before…" He tucked me into his arms and kissed the new tears away. "…it's because I didn't think I deserved ya." I whimpered another cry and hugged him around the neck. Steven. My Steven.

He loved me.

The door burst open with a swift bang and Steven and I jumped, his arms hardening around my body.

"What the fuck!" He shouted. "Get the hell outta here, Joe!" My brother stood in the doorway, frowning momentarily.

"I heard her cryin'…" He was half asleep, his hair messed even further by a second romp in his bedroom. Blinking at Steven's bare back and my surprised face, it took him a second to register we were hugging. Not in danger.

"GET OUT!" Steven bellowed again, shifting on the bed to further obscure my brother's view, even though I was thoroughly wrapped in his arms. Joey lurched awake and closed the door. After a moment, I coughed a laugh.

"Now ya know how it feels." Joey murmured through the door. "Sorry Steve." He mumbled, shuffling away. Steven glared at the door for a moment, then I snorted, my tears forgotten as laughter wheezed from my lungs.

"What a day." I murmured. Even Steven softened and shook his head.

"You Darley's sure know how to ruin a moment." He teased, kissing me quickly as I wiped my face. "And I was on a roll." I laughed louder, bringing a smile to his face.

"Yes ya were." I whispered, kissing him back. "You made my night." His face lit up and he held my head, consuming me with a hard kiss. He was warming beneath me, his whole body responding with elation.

"Harley." His voice purred into my mouth and I shivered. His big hands lifted my hips until I straddled his waist, his arms sliding around my back to hold me to his chest. This is where I belonged. He buried himself inside me and I stared into his eyes. My love. As we moved together, eyes never parting, Steven showed me how much he loved me.

And I showed him back.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm going to try and write a few more of these before I wrap it up. I think that I have the ending figured out, it's just a matter of giving you guys some happy before I drop that doozy on you. Love to my reviewers! <strong>


	28. Stronger

The guys.

I want to be very clear about this. I never called Billy's gang, "the guys". Unlike the delusional bimbos that circled their strong, mysterious group, I understood my relationship to them.

They were friends, sure…with each other.

I didn't sit with them at the Four Roses, even after I'd been dragged along by Joey over a dozen times in two weeks. I would say hello, I'd even learned to use their names. But we were never cozy. Not like word of mouth seems to describe.

Ask a local busybody, and they'd tell you I was the Queen of the Darley gang. They'd tell you I was right in the thick of it all, pulling the boys around by the front of their shorts. They'd tell you I shot up with Heco and then let him pass me around the group like a blunt. They'd tell you I had Bones wrapped around my little finger, that I called hits on people because I didn't like them. There would be no mention that none of this was ever visually verified.

That's what made it pretty damn laughable.

But back to Billy's gang. Of the seven, I was only ever close to two of them. The first is obvious.

Bodie.

He was Billy's best friend. No one needed to clue me in on that; it would be like proclaiming that the sky was blue and over our heads. But more than that, Bodie was the brother Billy had needed. That took some time to figure out. After hearing stories of Joey's childhood, it didn't take long for me to realize Billy had been forced from any semblance of one. Starting at the ripe age of five, he'd been scraping together a life for Joey to live.

Bodie had been Billy's lifeline. Neither would have said it that way, but it was an irreversible truth. When Billy had been beaten to a pulp and couldn't even stay awake to clean his wounds, Bodie would appear. When Billy hadn't eaten in days because Joey had been hungry, Bodie would force a burger down his friend's throat. It was almost too heartbreaking for me to hear at first. I would have never guessed how close the two men had been. They were bonded by a force thicker than blood. They were brothers on a level that Joey and I could never compare.

And for that, I adored Bodie.

Heco on the other hand, was a different sort of friendship. Billy liked to call us the "tweakers". He meant it to be a joke; but, then again, Billy's jokes were never without their thorns. I like to think of Heco as a kindred soul. We'd had been dumped into life and arrived with the same hard fall. We had a shared past that no one could ever truly understand. He was a friend I learned to value over time. His face became a symbol of strength, of companionship.

With him, I'd never be alone again.

* * *

><p>Clubs were a thing that only existed in the city. Crossing the invisible fence from modesty, and frequently poverty, into the shining beast of the city felt like crossing an ocean. Everything was loud, fast, glitzy, and expensive. That's the way with cities. But the worst of it came with the night. Boston's nightlife was no different from any other. There were flocks of people, dressed to impress and padding their pockets with stacks of cash. Drinks, cabs, concerts, door fees…the list went on and on. To spend an evening in the city would put most of Stokely into bankruptcy.<p>

So they'd come up with a solution.

"Joey Darley, where the hell are you takin' me?" I shot a glare at my brother as he took a drag on a dwindling joint. The smell wafted towards me as he held the smoke in his lungs, grinning stupidly at me from the driver's seat. When he finally let the hit out, he coughs seemed to turn into laughs.

"Just relax, Todd. You're gonna lovvvee this place." I tapped the window button again, coaxing the window down a little further. I wasn't judging my brother for a harmless joint. But the smell was never one I'd liked. And I really didn't want to smell like fresh skunk when we arrived at…wherever we were going.

"Joey, we've passed half of the bars in town." I muttered, watching as another hole-in-the-wall slipped by. "I think you're lost." Letting out a startling snort, Joey laughed manically, waving his hang around.

"Nope. I know exactly where I'm goin'." I sighed and rolled my eyes, fiddling with the skirt on my legs. It had been a good long while since I'd worn anything this short. But Joey's enthusiasm had been contagious when he'd shown up at my door. And before I could help it, I'd stepped into a decent clubbing outfit and had makeup caked around my eyes. It felt good to be my age again. Weeks of working and bumming around my apartment in sweats had made me feel like an old maid. Steven had insisted I was no such thing, but I couldn't help but feel extra sexy in a skirt and heels.

Oh boy.

Ankle boot heels. They'd been a gift from Joey, of all people. He'd noticed me ogling the badass shoes in a store window. And what did ya know, the next day they'd appeared in my closet. They were shiny and black and five inches high. Zippers ran up the instep, right to the soft spot below my anklebone. The shoes fit like gloves, domineering and sexy while also revealing my tiny ankles.

I have to admit it, I would have worn them to any dingy bar. Hell, the Four Roses was occasion enough for the beauties. I wanted to wear them with anything. As I looked down at my feet, I tilted my toes up to get a peek.

I wonder if Steven would want me to wear them…with nothing else.

"Here we are!" Joey let out a throaty growl, thumping his hands on the steering wheel as he peeled behind a shell of a store. It was large enough that it probably had once housed a chain store, like Walmart or Target, but the front of the building was stripped clean of any markings, awkward tan lines left behind from too much sun.

"What the hell…" My voice drifted off when I caught sight of the commotion behind the building. Because of the large structure, and its proximity to an overgrown patch of trees, the back parking lot was completely hidden from the street. Even the nearby highway was shielded from sight.

And that's where all of Stokely had gathered, apparently. Behind the abandoned store, rows upon rows of cars were chaotically parked, wedged so close that doors probably hadn't been easy to open. My mouth hung open as Joey floored it towards the group, hooting to himself in a moment of excitement.

As soon as his car was in sight, people started to leap at it, smacking their hands on the hood and patting his shoulder through the open window. The girls swarmed when we parked. A few of them walked around to my side of the car, probably expecting another of Billy's crew to dismount from the famous Camaro.

I tried to contain my smirk when I got a load of their surprised expressions.

"Joey, ya promised we were gonna dance…" A whiny voice was steadily complaining as I slipped a foot out of the car. I wanted to laugh at the screeching vocals, but the pained expression on my brother's face was reward enough. He sighed and tossed me a quick 'there just isn't enough of me to go around' shrug, then beamed as he rose from the car.

"Don't worry, baby. We're gonna do plenty of dancin'." Following his lead, I stood and smoothed the black skirt that hugged my hips. I was hesitant for a moment, realizing my thighs hadn't seen the light of day in…nearly a year now, and I was flashing them for all men within a mile radius. But the grins I caught from the boys nearby boosted my confidence in a heartbeat.

Harley Todd was no old maid.

My hair was carefully, but not neatly, styled on my head, the short length perfectly tousled. Lord knows I'd spent enough time messing with it in the Camaro's overhead mirror. And my makeup was holding up well. I looked like vampire queen, but the look worked with my dark messy hair and the new black top I'd snagged for a steal. The halter was soft canvas, complete with cargo pockets over each breast and a snug fit around my tummy. The thing would have hung off me before. But with my new lounging weight, I filled it out in all places.

And I was ready to rock it.

"Who's she, your new girl?" The whiny girl was a redhead, her face heart-shaped face matching her pouty lips. Joey had probably picked her up at a bar, but she couldn't have been out of high school.

"I'd rather chew broken glass." I said to her with a grin. "He's all yours." She blinked at me as I shot my brother a quick wink. My body was alive with confidence and I didn't want to hang around Miss Underaged all night long. Joey let out a spew of laughter as I made my way to the open door at the back of the building.

* * *

><p>I don't know what I was expecting, because the party inside was nothing I hadn't witnessed before. Tons of people, not enough space, and loud music. Bodies collided into each other and feet were trampled on; it wasn't the dramatic stepping out that Joey had made it out to be. But I went onto the dance floor with a smile on my face regardless. I hadn't danced since the night my mother died, and I missed the rush that came from abandoning inhibitions and just moving to the beat. No one would judge you. Most likely because no one could see you, but everyone seemed to fall into a pace.<p>

Wasn't long before I had a couple of guys pressing up against my back. Steven wasn't the overbearing jealous type, so I knew a few harmless dances wouldn't get back to him in a bad way. Besides, he knew no one could compete with him. So I just kept going. One guy eventually decided to stay and suddenly he was my partner. We moved, pressed together on the dance floor for nearly an hour, and I never once saw his face.

Then the music changed. Fast and furious became slow and hard, bleeding the bass from all around. The guy behind me took the beat literally. His body molded into mine and his hands started to demand more than just dancing.

Suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room. My head started to spin, my legs turned to jello, and every hair stood on end. I felt off balance, out of sync.

The need. It tore up my spine; my long lost sickness rising from the dead. My body ached from an invisible attack and the pit of my elbow itched like mad.

"I gotta go." I muttered, trying to force my way out of the crowd. But the guy didn't like that at all. His hands formed tight vices around my arms, holding me in place as he ground a growing erection into my ass. His breath fanned over my shoulder and I pulled my face away as his mouth ventured up my neck.

"Let go." I tugged but received no response, the tequila on his breath finding my nose. Alarm joined my festering itch and it took every inch of my sanity to keep from screaming.

"Yo Harley!" I looked up at the voice and nearly sobbed with relief. A familiar face was standing just outside the crowd, hidden in shadow. With a hard yank, I freed myself, the jerk behind me releasing his hold. And then I was pushing through the crowd, collapsing into the arms of my shadowy savior.

"Heco?" I breathed. He nodded in a short, firm dip of his chin and took me by the wrist. I followed without complaint and was relieved when he took us outside, the cold air crashing over me like an ocean wave.

"Ya come here alone?" He murmured, releasing me to walk down the length of the building. A few people were outside smoking, but quickly stomped out their butts and vanished as soon as he came into view. His appearance was intimidating enough, but his tats told an entirely different story. Only a few people in Stokely wore ink on their faces, and Heco was one of them. Everyone knew the Darley cook, and they knew to steer clear unless told otherwise.

"No, I came with Joe." I replied, hugging myself in the cool air. My whole body was vibrating, inside and out. He fell back against a wall and crossed his arms.

"Ants." He suddenly muttered, watching me shiver.

"What?"

His expression softened and he motioned to my shaking limbs. "Feels like ants crawlin' 'round under ya skin, right?" I frowned for a moment and he unfolded a single arm. His tracks.

"Yeah." I had forgotten all about his taste for heroin. I'd only seen the little pits in his elbow once and I'd been drunk out of my mind at the time. But now, standing with him in the dark, I remembered the hungry stare we'd exchanged in that old warehouse many months ago. If Billy hadn't shown up, we would have ended up falling in bed and shooting up for desert.

"It'll fade after a bit." He murmured, holding out a cigarette for me to take. When I shook my head he cocked an eyebrow. "Ya need ta take the edge off."

"I'm fine." I lied. I hadn't wanted a fix this badly in a while and I couldn't figure out what had set me off so badly.

"How long's it been?" Heco dropped the cigarettes back into his pocket, crossing his arms as he stared.

"Almost a year." I murmured. But I hadn't been to the clinic in nearly a month.

"It doesn't get easier." He grunted, pulling on the front of his jacket to straighten it on his shoulders.

"That's helpful." I muttered back.

"It's the truth." And I didn't doubt him. His expression wasn't one of cruel pessimism, but sad honesty. Deep down, I knew he was right. Our sickness was always going to be there, right below the surface, lying dormant until it decided to rear its ugly head.

"Thanks for pullin' me out, back there." I said softly, leaning back against the concrete beside him. He nodded loosely.

"This shit always sucks me back in. Makes me crave it. Saw ya and figured I'd keep an eye out." I smiled weakly up at him. The gang might be chosen for their criminal records and disdain of morality, but they were still people. They had their moments of genuine compassion.

"Thanks." He nodded again and I sighed, looking out into the flock of cars. Knowing Joey, I'd figured on calling Steven for a ride home. But now I didn't want to. I didn't want him to see me like this. And my brother wouldn't want to leave this early. I certainly wasn't going to tell him what had happened.

God, Billy would be so mad.

"He wouldn't be mad." I blinked up at Heco and realized I'd murmured my last thought aloud.

"Yeah, right." Heco shrugged, as if he just knew. Then we fell into silence once again, watching people pull up and clamor out of their cars into the party. The music was still loud, even on the other side of the wall, but the night's sounds seemed to trump the angry bass. Crickets and highway noise slowed my heart to a calm lull.

"Ya know Billy almost shot up once." A full body shiver stopped halfway up my spine.

"He what?" Heco pulled out the pack of cigarettes again, popping out two from inside.

"Ya heard me." He murmured, holding one out as he leant back. This time I took it, my brows rising in disbelief.

"But Billy doesn't do that. He hates it." I whispered holding the smoke loosely in my fingers until Heco whipped out a lighter and lit the end of his. Then I propped mine in my lips, inhaling when the flame met the tip.

"Tell that to the freaked out, pissed off kid I knew." Heco hissed out his drag and shook his head, running a palm over his scalp. "He had it juiced up 'n in the needle, before he realized what he was doin'. Freaked the piss outta him." I nodded, remembering my first time. It was hard to do, tying off an arm and tapping a vein, and I'd nearly chickened out. But I hadn't been alone. The boy who'd bought the H had gently cooed me back to the dark side. Then he'd depressed the syringe and nothing had mattered.

"Why?" I found myself asking the question, staring off into the packed parking lot. Heco sighed, his breath mingling with the smoke, filling the black air in front of us with a white cloud.

"Lotta shit. But I think his initiation 'bout did his head in." He spoke so quietly I almost missed what he'd said. Initiation. Billy's first kill.

"Were you there?" I prodded for the story like an expert, hoping he'd miss the intense curiosity on my face. And he did. Heco was far away when he answered, his face unfocused and slack. His voice dipped low, like he wasn't just telling a story, but reciting a legend.

Then again, maybe it sort of was.

"I was 'bout 19 when it happened. One night they caught some kid pullin' car batteries outta the junkers on Bones' lot." He frowned a little, swallowing. "If there's one thing Bones hates most, it's people takin' what's his." Then he shook off the expression, falling back into a placid stare.

"This kid, he lived off of the alley that runs behind the lot. Homeless. I was cookin' for Bones outta a shitty trailer he'd parked out back." I raised an eyebrow, looking over at Heco. He couldn't have been much older than thirty, so he had been cooking for Bones over ten years ago? He noticed my silent question and grinned, lifting a finger to tap his bald temple. "Might notta graduated, chica, but I always got A's in chemistry." I snorted a laugh and he grinned wider, flashing his perfect white teeth. Heco never ceased to amaze me.

"Where was I?" He murmured, shaking his head as I took a drag.

"Trailer in the lot." Immediately his expression fell into one of reflection, his tone changing from teasing to serious.

"Heard the noise when was cookin' 'n Bones had the kid hauled into his office. Kid was jonsin' off his ass." Heco shook his head once, as if to shake away the shared memory. Even I had to fight off a shudder. "Bones gets this glint in his eye, tells the kid to come back the next night and he'll give him a job, pay him in H." I swallowed thickly. You didn't have to be genius to know Bones would never do such a thing.

"Poor kid was so sick, he didn't see it was a trap. Came back and practically wagged his tail, ready to suck Bones' cock ta get that fix."

I winced, but not because of the mention of Bones, but because of the context. I'd been there. I'd been in that spot, so desperate for a fix that you'd do anything. I had let men use me, just for one more hit.

Heco turned his head and our eyes met in the dark. In his hard features, there was a small hesitation. My heart heaved as I realized what I saw. I saw myself. Reflected in Heco's eyes was the very same pain. He'd been in that same dark place. We were the same. It took him a moment to look away, but until then I never broke eye contact with him. I gave him the understanding that those eyes had been searching for. And when he was ready, he continued.

"Bones had Billy stay late the next night. Told 'im it was time for him ta be a man. La jefe." Heco took a drag, expanding his broad chest as he filled his lungs. "Then he hands Bill a crowbar…" Heco let the smoke leak from his nostrils as he closed his eyes, the images obviously haunting him.

"Jesus." It was the only response I could think of. Billy was ruthless, but that was a special sort of dark. A place I'd fallen victim to.

"That kid couldna been more than 14." Heco whispered, staring into the night once again. "He was little and skinny, right around Joe's age." I groaned as I realized the true extent of Billy's torture, and the chilling cruelty of my father. "That was the part that fucked with 'is head. He saw Joe every time he brought that crowbar down…"

"Oh god." I whispered, shivering with horror. No wonder Billy hated so deeply. How could anyone feel that kind of guilt and not retain some fury?

Thankfully, Heco didn't have anything else to add. I didn't have the heart to stop him, and he didn't have the heart to continue. We just stood there in silence, my cigarette smoldering into ash as it sat unused in my hand. I couldn't breathe already. A smoke was the last thing on my mind.

"Bill is the only person I know who deserves an escape, but never took it." Heco whispered the words then dropped his butt, grinding it into the ground with the toe of his boot.

* * *

><p>Heco had been more than willing to give me a lift home. That is, after he'd found Joey in the sweating mass. My brother had feigned disappointment, and had even offered to leave, but his drunken attempt at doing the right thing only made me more insistent on leaving with Heco. Joey's date had appreciated that.<p>

Then I was home.

Standing on the sidewalk, I stared up at my living room window. And had no urge to go inside. I watched Heco drive off in his Duster, the little red lights fading into the distance, then stood. Staring.

I wanted to get high. More than anything.

It was kind of like a craving for food. Nothing else sounded good. In fact, everything else sounded disgusting. Only that one thing, the one food you craved most would be appetizing.

Heroin was my food. The need reminded me of how it felt to feel nothing, to let all of the hurt fall away. Heco's story had been meant to inspire me into sobriety, but it had also stirred up another emotion: guilt.

Billy had been deserving of an escape. He had been a parent before he'd started kindergarten, he'd suffered our father's neglect, and then he'd faced the real world and all it's cruelties. I'd been through a rough life, but nothing more than he'd faced. Not really. But I had succumbed to my weakness. I'd taken the easy way out.

When I realized this, a thought started to take shape in the darkest part of my mind.

_Debbie might be alive if you hadn't been out, getting a fix._

Part of me knew it was a lie. I would be dead. But the beaten and abused side of my psyche had embraced it, nodding in agreement. All the way home I'd stared blankly out my window, wondering what my life would be like if I hadn't started getting high.

_You wouldn't have spread your legs so easily for your mom's boyfriends. _

I flinched and scratched at my elbow. The need and my mind were working together, ganging up on me like a couple of bullies.

_Your mom would be happy, right now, if you hadn't stuck that needle in your arm. _

Tears started to blur the street lamps until only streaks of light were left in my vision. There wasn't a neat line of bulbs, lighting a path into my apartment. Instead, there were sharp, angry slashes of white, pushing me away.

_Everybody would be better off if you never came home. _

The tears fell and I hated myself for listening to the sadistic voice in my head. Stumbling away from the front of my apartment building, I went to my beat up car. Bracing my hands on the window, I looked at my reflection.

_See? Right back to start. You'll never change. _

Gritting my teeth, I let out a small sob and threw open the door. I was going to shut the voice up, once and for all.

* * *

><p>The corner was dark, exactly what you would expect from a shady neighborhood. What remained of a building was falling down, leaving a skeleton of cement. The majority of the rubble had been cleared away and only the four square pillars remained in the corners. It was almost like a tent, four poles holding up a crumbing second layer of concrete. But most of that cover had fallen apart and been moved as well.<p>

I almost missed it, expecting something distinguished. Now that I think about it, though, distinguished wasn't what drug dealers were looking for. When they scouted locations, they looked for hidden, remote places. This was definitely remote. I passed it and glanced out my passenger window, eyeing the glow of a fire as it reflected off a dumpy truck.

He had a customer.

Circling back around, I parked on the opposite side of the street in front of an empty lot. A house had probably been there once upon a time. But that had rotten away and the yard had turned into a jungle of weeds and other plants, growing up until the chain link fence was barely visible in the tangles.

I let the car idle and watched until the pickup bumbled away, a lone tail light winking as the driver sped down the street. Then I took a breath, swiped away any remaining tear trails, and turned off the car. Opening my door, I carefully walked over the battered asphalt. It was so badly cracked, pieces were missing on the edges, scattered off in the grass.

This was really remote.

A hand on my car and a hand hovering in the air, I kept my eyes down to avoid falling in my heels. Then I walked on a stripe of solid tar towards the dilapidated building. He must have heard me coming, because he stepped out from behind one of the four pillars, face set in a ready expression.

"The fuck are ya doin' here?"

Billy didn't seem happy to see me.

When I finally made it to his side of the street, I brushed my hair out of my face and tried to not let my nerves show.

"Heco said ya worked this corner until five." His face relaxed a little and I knew I'd said the right thing. I wasn't on the corner for a fix; I was on the corner for him.

"So what?" He grunted, leaning against the pillar as I stumbled closer over the pebbled ground below. I was going to fall to my death before I'd even said what I'd come to say.

"I wanted to see you." I murmured, wobbling as I pitched sideways before catching my weight with my other foot. Billy wrinkled his nose and sniffed while he watched me fight my way forward.

"Why?" He muttered, lifting an eyebrow when I lurched to brace a hand on the pillar beside him. Panting a little, I focused on standing straight as I faced him.

"I went to a party." His face fell flat into his "I really don't care" expression. I had to hold back a flinch. "It was rough." As I spoke, my mind revisited the throbbing beat and hot air and a bolt of need shot through me, ending at my elbow. And just like that, Billy's face changed, he lowered his arms and set his jaw.

"Ya know what I'd do if ya used again." It wasn't his first threat towards me, but wasn't like all the others. He had added a warning. Almost like he was asking me to never make him follow through with that threat. I nodded and rubbed my forearm to ebb the tingling itch.

"I know. That's why I came here." Taking a breath, I closed my eyes. _Doesn't matter what you say, you'll always need to shoot up. _Frowning, I sharply exhaled before I stared up at Billy again. "I'm strong. Not as strong as you, but I'm tryin'." He blinked, the muscles in his forehead twitching with a mysterious expression. Then I nodded and breathed easier, carefully taking a step back.

"That's all. I just wanted to tell ya that." I murmured, giving him a shy smile before I turned for my car. My journey back was as treacherous as before and I wobbled, trying my hardest to maintain some dignity in Billy's eyes.

Unfortunately my heels had other plans. A pebble set me off balance and I felt my knee buckle, the ground quickly greeting me as I started to fall.

"Don't wear those fuckin' shoes if ya can't walk in 'em." My brother snapped, his hands catching my arms and hauling me upright before I could smash into the asphalt. Hair tossed every direction, I nodded and blushed as I found my feet. Then we walked to my car in silence. Billy stayed at my side the entire time, watching until I had a hand safely braced against the car's body. Looking up into his blue eyes, I was felt a sense of guilt sweep through me.

Billy Darley. So big, so strong, and so cold. But he hadn't always been that way. People had made him this way. This life had made him this way. He raised an eyebrow.

"Do not hug me." He grumbled, backing away a half of a step. A smile broke across my face and I shook my head.

"I wasn't goin' to."

Billy made a face and for a moment I thought I saw a smile. It could have just been my imagination, but I doubt it. Then he turned back towards the corner, vanishing into the dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Sort of a medium chapter. Not too dark and not too mushy. But we got some Billy time in there :) Hope you guys enjoyed! <strong>

**Shout out time! All my love to everyone who reviewed or read for me. I can't thank you guys enough!**

**Cotton Strings, Dancing-Pinky-Flower, xoShortee93, .338, redhedlund[bonjour mon chéri!], and Sparkly! **


	29. The Price

A/N: Okay, I usually try to leave notes for the end, but I need to tell you THIS ISNT A NEW CHAPTER. I'm sorry for getting your hopes up, but I went back and changed the ending of this chapter because it was ruining my ability to continue the story. I was originally going to go in one direction, but decided that it took away from what I wanted to do with the plot overall. So I'm reposting this with the shortened ending. Literally, it's missing three sentences. But it made the world of difference for me. Thanks for reading! New chapter soon!

* * *

><p>I only ever showed up to the garage for two reasons: Steven and my father. Most of the time, I was there for the former. But that day I was there because I'd been ordered to by Bones.<p>

As expected, no one was outside as I pulled up at the fence, so I was given a moment to stare and collect myself. It always took a bit of courage to saunter into Bones' midst because he hated it when I showed anything besides iron backbone. He favored the slightly blunt and expressionless Harley. He liked all of us that way. By "us" I mean his children.

Sighing with reluctance, I opened the rusted door of the car and stood. It was a perfect temperature outside that day; in jeans, a black racerback and jacket, I wasn't too warm from the summer's heat. Which was fortunate. I really didn't want to show any skin at the garage. After all, Bones still didn't know about my "batting practice" —Billy's words, not mine— and all three of us, his children, wanted to keep it that way. My hand tucked cleverly into my jeans, I casually concealed the slightly crooked fingers and raised scars. Thankfully, Bones wasn't too observant when it came to me.

The second I passed the fence, the pit bull Bones kept chained up appeared from nowhere, snapping it's jaws; my father's version of an alarm. With a swallow, I tried to pretend that the angry animal didn't bother me.

"Look who it is." My head snapped around, spotting Burk as he slumped against a car nearby. I gave him a small smile, forcing my other hand into my pocket to keep from waving. Burk was one of the nicer guys that my father had in his employ. He didn't say too much, but when he did, it was pleasant.

"Hey." I wandered forward, scuffing my boots as I thought of something to say. "He here?" Burk smirked and I nodded, rolling my eyes at myself. "Duh."

"Out back." Burk said with a grin, motioning with his head back behind the garage. Taking a drag on his dwindling cigarette, he sighed. "Been busy 'round here." Crossing my arms, I raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Why?" I was careful to sound only half interested. Anything too eager would earn me a vague answer and a calculating look. I'd learned the ways to get the information I wanted. Burk shrugged and tossed his butt away, cracking his dirty knuckles.

"Let's just say it's got nothin' ta do with cars." As he headed back into the shop, I followed, chewing on the inside of my lip. If it wasn't cars, it was guns. Passing into the dark building, Burk nodded to some of Bones' real mechanics: Gus, Terry…they all blended together in my head. Without a word, Burk led me into Bones' office and rounded the desk towards the back door.

"Give me a minute." He muttered, opening the door and ducking out into the bright sun, vanishing. Alone in my father's office, I teetered back and forth, rolling my weight from the tips of my toes to the back of heels. Normally Bones was parked behind his desk, ready to grunt things then dismiss me with the wave of his hand. It was odd to have to wait, twiddling my thumbs until my father could be bothered to see me.

"I thought I smelled somethin' sweet." I froze in mid-sway and whirled around, glaring at Rick as he leant in the entrance to the office. No matter how many times I pushed him away, or threw his compliments back in his face, he never seemed to grow tired of me. Shoulders wide as he crossed his arms, his skin was dark from the sun against his bright white t-shirt and his dark hair was slicked back, curling lazily around his ears.

"I don't wear perfume, you creep." I muttered back, turning around to ignore him. I don't know why I ever bothered to acknowledge his existence. It only made him more persistent.

"Then it must be somethin' else on ya." He purred, his footfalls bringing him closer. I tapped a foot impatiently, watching the back door and praying Bones walked through it soon. I'd never hit Rick, but he had a way of making violence seem attractive after a short period of time.

"Don't you have work ta do?" I hissed, not even bothering to glance at him from over my shoulder. He chuckled under his breath.

"Sure." His body lingered behind me, making it impossible for me to glare at him without turning around and giving in. So I just crossed my arms. "But I'd rather bother you." I bit down in the inside of my bottom lip to keep myself from hissing something juvenile in response. "Wow, nothing?" He laughed a little and circled to look me in the eye.

"That's disappointin'." Rick gave me a smug grin. "I like it when you're a bitch."

I didn't consciously realize I was going to slap him until Rick caught my left hand. Instantly I knew I'd made a huge mistake. His fingers massaged my scarred skin, running back and forth over my crooked bones.

"I wondered which one he smashed." Rick purred, leaning closer to stare directly into my eyes. He touched each of my knuckles, caressing them like he cared. I had to hold my breath to keep from gasping. It felt so strange and it made my insides churn. Not just from the frayed nerves in my hand, but from his gentleness. When he leant down and touched his lips to my knuckles, I ripped my hand away.

"The hell does that mean?" I muttered, tucking the hand away from sight in a pocket. If all else failed, I'd use the beautifully stupid lie Billy had made up for me. I'd slammed my hand in a car door. Car door. Sure. That was logical.

"Tix always was a crazy shithead." Rick murmured, his eyes fastened on my pocket. If I hadn't been so shocked at hearing Tix's name, I would have been touched by the anger in Rick's eyes.

"What?"

I didn't get an answer, because Bones chose that precise moment to bust in through the back door, Burk in tow. My heart took off like a sprinter in my chest and Rick looked away, eyes smoldering with a darkness I'd never seen. He was a jerk, yes. He liked to play cat and mouse with me, sure. And he had a supreme issue with my boyfriend, but I'd never seen him pissed like that.

If Tix wasn't already dead, he would have been the next name on Rick's list. Definitely. But that wasn't the disturbing part. If Rick knew about Tix, and my injuries, who else did?

"Get out." Bones didn't bother with a "hello" or any greeting. He got right to it, waving a hand at Rick and Burk so the two men would leave the room. They did so in silence and I stared after Rick, suddenly alarmed at his departure.

Go figure.

"Ya owe me forty-three hundred bucks." Bones spat at me, crossing his arms as he stood behind his desk. I looked back at him and blinked, very confused and very off kilter.

"Why—"

"Because that Camaro isn't free." He shot back, sending me an extremely angry glare. "S'gonna cost ya." I blinked again.

"But I'm not drivin—"

"Does it look like I care what happened ta the goddamn car? I sold it ta you, you pay me. Simple." My stomach turned sour and threatened to force up the bowl of cereal I'd eaten that morning. I didn't have the money for a Camaro, and I wasn't even driving the thing!

"I don't have that kind of money." I whispered, my hands sweating in terror. I'd spent three hundred bucks having the shitty brakes on my junker fixed. Hell, I couldn't even afford to pay my boyfriend to do it. And no way was I going to ask for yet **another** favor from him.

"Then I guess ya don't have a car." Bones growled.

Call me a goddamn crybaby. My eyes started to water and my shoulders slumped in defeat. Joey was going to be crushed and I was going to be carless. Despite the overwhelming urge to bawl like the infant I was, I simply nodded and choked back the pathetic display. He stared at me, watching like he was expecting something.

He was probably counting the seconds before I'd wail like a baby.

Not today pal.

"I'll have it here in a few hours." I managed to make my voice semi-stable, despite the tears openly flowing from my eyes. It was stupid how easily he'd opened me up. But then again, it was simple psychology, right? Give the child something, let them enjoy it, and then take it away to ensure they never ask for something again.

No wonder Billy hated the asshole.

"GODDAMN IT HARLENE."

Whoa. I nearly crapped my pants as Bones hollered at me. First, I hadn't heard my full –legal- name since I was five. It had only been in print. On my report cards, on my license. Never out loud.

Second? The anger had come out of left field. He'd been controlled up until unleashing his lung capacity. Bones had always kept his cool, relatively speaking. Even when he yelled, there was always a reserved anger in his words. No desperation, no real emotion of any kind.

This…this was raw. He looked…affected by my very presence. And I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear altogether.

"I'm sorry." I didn't even know what I was apologizing for. I just did it. Hell, I would have admitted to murder if it meant avoiding another yell like that. The tears were flooding my face and my voice was a wobbly mess. Just like that day he'd busted into my life, terrifying both my mother and I, his angry voice had shattered me inside and out.

"If it weren't for ya motha…." His voice trailed off and I hiccupped. He was livid, his hands shaking as he lowered them to the surface of his desk. "…I'd take a baseball bat ta ya again for lyin' ta me."

So…he'd found out. I let out a whimper of a sob and hugged myself.

"SHUT UP." Bones bellowed. The room and his voice made me convulse in terror. I was in so much more than trouble. My father was so enraged, debating my death…and I knew he was capable of doing just that. He sat down with a huff and put his head in one hand. I had to grind my teeth to keep from crying out loud.

"If ya ever lie ta me again, Harley, I swear I might kill ya." Bones wasn't looking at me as he spoke, and he punctuated the sentence with a slam of his fist against his desk. I jumped and he finally looked at me. "And I don't wanna do that. Really don't."

The sadness in his eyes stabbed me straight in the gut. Of all the emotions I expected to see on my father's face, that was not one of them. He smeared a hand over his chin and ducked his head, shaking it slowly. Gradually, I recognized more and more signs of worry. His anger was only camouflage, just like Billy. If they felt anything for anyone, they were quick to hide it behind some pissed off rampage.

This, however, was off the charts. I wiped my face and gulped back the thick saliva in my mouth.

"I didn't want to upset you with my problems." I whispered so softly, I wondered if Bones would even be able to understand me. My father looked up and his eyebrows slackened atop his forehead.

"Losin' ya job is a problem. Bein' behind on ya mortgage is a problem." Then he slammed a hand on his desk, standing once again. "But findin' out about MY DAUGHTER—" He closed his eyes and his mouth formed a thin line. The rage that shuddered through him made me cry a little harder, but not because I was afraid.

"I didn't want to start anythin'." I whimpered. Truthfully? Billy had been willing to charge headfirst into a war to gut Tix. And it was becoming awfully apparent that my father would have done the same thing. He glanced up at me and sighed through his nose, his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Ya think I am where I am cuz I need little girls ta do my thinkin'?" He growled, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Charlie and I woulda sorted it. And I wouldna been askin' fah permission." His eyes scanned my body, resting on my hand. "Com 'ere."

I swallowed again and approached, holding out my left, scarred hand without having to be asked. Not that he would ask. He'd order. But I did it anyway. Bones didn't touch me, he just watched as I held out my hand, my fingers struggling to lie flat in the air. When he'd had enough, he waved my arm away and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"Ya mother woulda blamed me." He muttered. I blinked and tucked my hand back into my right armpit, hugging myself as he stared down at his desk.

"I doubt it." I whispered, sniffling against the tears that tickled my nose. Bones snorted angrily and glared up at me.

"Ya didn't know ya motha like I did." For some reason, I took offense to the statement and a slice of anger went through me.

"No, I didn't. I knew the battered, brain-washed version who let—"

"DO NOT…" Bones stood and raised a hand, as if he planned on slamming it into my cheek, but he clenched it into a fist and simply held it in front of my face. When he finally lowered it, his eyes were closed and his face was bright red. "…if I had known 'bout that…"

"What?" I muttered suddenly, glaring over tear-rimmed eyes. "Ya woulda killed me for keepin' my mouth shut then too?" I coughed in disgust, wiping angrily at my cheeks.

"I woulda taken a knife and cut off the dick off the bastard who touched ya, and fed it to 'im before I blew his head off." Bones growled, sending a shudder rolling down my spine. "Then I woulda smacked ya motha senseless for bein' a stupid bitch." When the silence between us threatened to stretch into miles, my father let out a sigh and sat back in his chair.

"Never hide shit from me, Harley."

Needless to say, I nodded.

"And if ya ever do it again…" He pointed a finger at me and I knew there was threat behind it. But it would never leave his lips.

Nodding again, I wiped the remaining tear streaks from my face. "I'll go get the car." I whispered, praying that it was excuse enough to leave. Bones sighed and I turned to go, thankful he wasn't stopping me.

"I don't want ya fuckin' car." He suddenly snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. I peered over my shoulder, pivoting on my heel to face him again.

"But—"

"Ya car's a worthless piece of shit." I blinked in confusion and opened my mouth to speak, but Bones waved me off.

"Get out."

"Should I bring the Cama—"

"Are ya deaf? Leave." Bones growled, drowning out my feeble, confused voice. I nodded and obeyed.

Walking through the garage after that was like walking through a wasteland. No doubt everyone had heard Bones' banging and yelling, so they'd all fallen silent to listen in. No one made a sound as I walked quickly through the hall towards the exit. If I was lucky, I wouldn't run into anyone and they wouldn't see my tear-streaked face. I'd been the crying daughter one too many times.

"Only the dead know my secrets." Rick's voice didn't startle me because I almost anticipated him to be there, lurking the in the shadows. Wiping my face, I passed without pausing.

"Rub it in." I murmured, coughing back a laugh.

"He was bound to find out." He shot back, following me out to my car. Those were nearly the exact words that Joey had used against Billy the night I'd been attacked. But it wasn't either of them that had gotten screamed it; it had fallen on me, like everything else. "Nearly killed Steven." Rick said, his voice revealing his glee more than a smile ever could.

The words made my blood run cold. Stopping halfway through the lot, I turned around glared at Rick.

"What the hell is ya problem with Steven?" I snarled, new tears budding in my eyes out of shear frustration. Rick swallowed and stared at me, unmoving. Then he launched forward and grabbed my face in two hands. Before I could even blink in shock, his mouth was on mine.

My hands smacked into his chest, but he didn't budge. Rick only let out a grunt, opening his mouth to kiss me deeper. He wasn't pushy, or even rough. On the contrary; his lips were soft and his tongue teased my lips, asking for entry instead of forcing. Eyes still open, we were staring, watching.

My hitting paused for just a moment, his shirt bunched in my fists. My lips parted and his eyes closed.

Spell broken.

I shoved him away and covered my lips with a palm, hiding what remained of the kiss.

"He shoulda killed Tix. I **woulda** killed him." Rick muttered. He sucked on his own bottom lip, tasting it as he ran a hand through his hair. A frown had formed on his face, and the darkness was back. "Bones woulda let me have 'im. And he woulda watched." He looked up at me and my stomach flopped. Fury, rage. It was all there. Rick would have skinned Tix alive and Bones would have no doubt enjoyed every second. "But no, your fuckin' asshole boy toy waited too long ta spill his guts. Useless fuckin' bastard." This time, it was my turn to frown.

"What does that mean?" I murmured. Rick snorted an angry laugh.

"Steven told Bones 'bout the beat down. What did ya expect?"

My heart dropped to my toes and my fists balled up at my sides.

"You're a goddamn liar." I whispered. "He wouldn't do that." Rick scoffed and a disgusted frown pulled his brows low.

"Do yaself a favor, sweetheart." He growled. "And pull ya head out of ya ass." Taking a step forward, he stood inches from me, glaring down into my face. "He wanted to protect his woman. But Steven is nothin'. He runs Bones' errands. He shines his motherfuckin' shoes. He's a good little crony." His palm cupped my chin and I refused to turn away, even though I wanted to. "A real man wouldna come home that night without Tix's blood on his hands."

Sue me, I shuddered. I inhaled on a silent gasp, picturing Steven in my doorway, his hands dripping. Then the image flickered and Rick's face replaced Steven's, his eyes gleaming.

"You're lyin'." I whispered, stepping out of his grasp. With that, I spun and took off for my car.

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><p>Why I ended up at the Roses, I don't know. I was angry, confused, and –above all- in need of a tall, thick drink. Upon entering the dark bar, I was confronted with a wall of emotion. It made me pause and cover my face with my hands, balancing on the edge of hysteria. I was so done.<p>

Dropping into a stool at the bar, I raised a finger and Sammy nodded, pulling an empty glass out from under the counter.

"I need ta talk to ya." Glancing to my left, I was shocked to see Daren sitting there. Well, she sure as hell hadn't been there when I'd walked in. Otherwise I would have walked to the other end of the bar. And she looked just as thrilled to see me. She'd addressed me like she would rather be shaking hands with a wood chipper. Tempted to get up and pretend she hadn't spoken, I rubbed my eyes.

"Do I look like I need anymore shit right now?" I practically spat the words at her, my jaw clenched to keep from shouting. I wasn't crying, but I was still coming apart at the seams. The smallest bit of stress threatened to unravel all of my composure, and that's exactly what Daren was: a mountain of problems.

"Look, my beef ain't with you." She muttered, lowering her eyes in a moment of hesitation. Well, at least I was convincing someone that I was holding it together. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten an ounce of respect from Billy's sharp-tongued tramp. I sighed and rubbed my eyelids again.

"Obviously. Now, what the hell do you want?" She swallowed and eased herself around the barstool, facing me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I saw what I needed to see pretty quickly. Underneath Daren's simple cotton tank top was a rounded belly, swelling up from the waist of her jeans.

"He won't even talk ta me." She whispered, her hand cradling the small bump as if to shield it from sight. I gulped down a thick mouthful of saliva.

"Shit." I had only meant to whisper the curse, but Daren's flinch made me realize how loud it must have been. Considering the day I'd been having, I hadn't thought things could get much worse.

Boy I was fucking wrong.

"I know we've had our issues." Daren murmured, rubbing the strip of exposed flesh above her jeans.

"I busted your lip after you emptied a beer on my fuckin' head." I muttered back, shaking my head with irritation. "I'd say we had more than issues." She rolled her eyes and braced a hand on the bar, her expression growing serious.

"Look, I don't care. It ain't about me or you. I need ta see Billy." With a snort, I leant against the counter and covered my face with a hand. I was not in the mood to sort out anyone's problems. I couldn't even sort out my own. Add to the fact that I really didn't like Daren, things weren't looking good for her. Peeking through my fingers, I caught a glimpse of the lump under her hand.

But it wasn't about her, was it?

I remember softening then, looking up into Daren's face. That was the first time I realized she scared she was. It was etched into her forehead, taking years off her beauty. She was barely twenty-five, but that day she looked much older.

"If he doesn't want to see ya, my buggin' him isn't gonna help." I replied gently, propping an arm on the bar to scoot closer to her. Daren nodded.

"I know. But I gotta try." I sighed and gave her a weak smile. I had to hand it to Daren, she was going to be one hell of a mom. Not giving up on her child, even before they were born, was a sure sign. Inevitably my mind went to Deb and I winced like someone had smacked me. All the things Bones had said about came rushing back and I was forcing down the emotional vomit that was making my nose tickle and my eyes water.

No thinking about Deb.

I stared down at Daren's pregnant belly and focused all that anxiety and fear on someone who deserved it.

"I'll try ta talk to him." I promised softly.

Honestly, I didn't expect a thank you. Maybe a smile or a comment of noncommittal appreciation, something Billy would say. But Daren caught me entirely by surprise when she slipped from the stool to wrap her arms around my shoulders. Stiffly standing, it took a moment for my brain to register that I was being hugged. And that Daren was possibly crying into the shoulder of my jacket. I awkwardly patted her back as she sniffled, panting her thanks over my back. Then she released me, walking out of the bar without meeting my gaze.

When the bar door had squeaked open and closed again, I slid into Daren's stool and plucked her unfinished beer from the counter. Tipping the thing back, I took a long pull. It tasted like horse piss. Sammy snorted at my grimace and took the bottle away.

"Non-alcoholic." With a bitter laugh, I planted my forehead on the bar.

"Figures."

* * *

><p>Nine drinks, two hours, and four games of pool later, I was happily wasted in the back of the Four Roses. Three different guys were paying my tab, and they were all smiling at me, their eyes telling me exactly what they wanted. Me, on my knees. Me, on all fours. Me, on my back.<p>

So boring.

I was laughing it up with an especially ugly sucker when I felt a hand grab my elbow. Frowning, I twisted on my barstool and swatted at the handsy culprit.

Steven.

In a black t-shirt and green canvas jacket, he looked like he'd spent the day in the car, his face stubbly and shadowed.

"We're leavin'." He hissed, eyes burning as he glared at the guy on my right. No doubt he was giving him a telepathic death threat.

"I'm not goin' anywhere." I muttered, pulling out of his grasp. I was too drunk to take orders. Too drunk to think about all the things I wanted to say to my 'boyfriend'. As I lifted my drink to swallow it down, Steven yanked it from my hand and brought it down on the counter, sloshing a good portion of it on the wooden surface.

"You've had enough. Get up."

Fuck. Him.

"If ya touch me again, asshole, I'll scream." I snarled, pointing a finger in his face. His glare didn't waver. Then he sidestepped me and left my line of sight. I snorted, thinking I'd won.

And that's when he grabbed me.

By the time I realized what was happening, Steven had picked me up and thrown me over his shoulder. I gurgled in discomfort, clutching his jacket to keep from falling onto my head.

"PUT ME DOWN GODDAMN IT." The noise in the bar lowered to a hush as Steven marched me out the front door, his arm locked around my knees.

"Get a fuckin' phone call, sayin' ya needed ta be picked up. Sammy said you were trashed. I didn't believe 'im…" He was muttering, but I heard every word.

"Oh no. Harley's havin' fun. Time ta call the fun police." I grunted, smacking his back. "Put me down ya son of a bitch." I hissed with a hard kick of my feet.

To avoid getting nailed in the face, he swung me down to the ground and set me on my feet. Immediately I was shoving him away, but he caught my hands and held them still.

"What the fuck is ya problem, Harley?" He demanded, looking down into my eyes. "Lettin' assholes feel ya up and buy ya drinks?" I tugged on his hold, hissing venom.

"I wasn't lettin' anybody touch me. Get off me." When he complied, I nearly fell on my ass. But Steven steadied me with a gentle hold on my elbow.

"And what, callin' me an asshole is supposed ta be cute?" He asked, frowning as I glared at him.

"Ya deserve a lot worse, baby." I growled, batting him away. Lurching towards my car, I fumbled for the car keys in my pocket. The second I found them, Steven cursed and yanked them from my hands.

"Ya gonna tell me what the fuck you're talkin' about?" He snapped, holding my keys out of reach as I shot him a poisonous stare. My eyes tingled as I thought about the afternoon I'd had. I didn't want to believe that Steven would tell Bones about the beat down I'd had. He knew that we'd dealt with it. He knew that it was none of Bones' business. But that night, as I'd tossed back more and more Jack, I'd come to the conclusion that Rick was right.

Only Billy, Joey, the gang, Charlie St. Claire, and Steven had known. Joey would never tell. Billy had been the one to hide it from Bones to begin with, so he and his gang would never breathe a word. And Charlie had better things to do than tattle to my father. So it all landed on Steven. The man I trusted and loved.

Whipping my bad hand out in front of Steven's face, I shoved the scarred mess into his nose.

"Rick likes my scars." I slurred, ripping my arm away to see his reaction. His forehead worked as he realized what I meant. "I trusted ya." I hissed, tears burning my eyes.

"I had ta tell him, Harley." He murmured, gritting his teeth. "He does business with Charlie. He needed ta know that one of St. Claire's dealers had gone after ya before—"

"OH FUCK OFF." I shouted, shoving him with all my might. "Give me my keys!"

"Fuck that." He spat back. "You're drunk as shit. You'll fuckin' die before ya make the corner." I laughed cruelly and fell back onto the hood of my car.

"BRING IT ON!" I screamed up at the sky. "TAKE YOUR BEST SHOT BIG GUY!" Steven grabbed the front of my jacket and hauled me off the hood, his face a mixture of disgust and fury. I was obviously pushing his limits, but he wasn't going anywhere.

"Ya gonna make me drag ya home, or are ya gonna get in peacefully?" He snarled. I let the tears fall, dripping down my cheeks. I loved him so much, and he was looking at me like I was dirt. I wasn't worth it, was I? Never had been. His entire expression softened and he brushed the hot drips off my face. "Harley, lemme take ya home." His mouth was right there, and I wanted him to kiss my troubles away. And he would, wouldn't he? He'd take me home and make love to me, show me how to forgive him. Show me how he'd had no choice in telling Bones. There was probably something rational behind it all, and he was going to show me.

"Rick kissed me." I murmured. He blinked once, glanced at my mouth, and then blinked again.

"Tell me tomorrow." He whispered. It was a plead. God, now he was hurt… and I was hurt. This was the stuff of great tragedies, wasn't it? We loved each other, but only ended up hurting each other.

I nodded and let him help me to the passenger's seat, sitting softly inside my piece of shit car. He was silent as he circled the front and got in the other side. And we sat there for a moment, saying nothing, doing nothing. Breathing.

"I was in Charlestown today." He murmured, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. "Thought bout ya the whole time."

I wedged myself between the seat and the car door, hiding the pained, pre-sob expression on my face. I'd spent the majority of the day thinking of him as well, but not like he'd thought about me, I'm sure. I was always going to disappoint him, wasn't I?

He started the car and we were on our way, the quiet killing me with each second. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how sorry I was for being so irrational. I thought about saying those things for blocks, biting back painful sobs that threatened to break through my chest.

But I never said a word.


	30. One Down

The next day I went to the clinic. I went to the clinic in sweatpants and a hoodie, with unwashed hair and flip flops. I went to the clinic that morning without eating, or even brushing my teeth.

I went because I wanted to get high.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted a needle so badly I woke up scratching at my arm. I shivered like I was freezing and clawed at my own skin, willing to tear it off if it would end the ache in my bones. It was bad enough that Joey offered to drive me. And I was hurting bad enough to accept.

The clinic is a small storefront, only a few blocks away from the highway leading right into the heart of Boston. It has no neighboring businesses, because those who were there lost their customers. Methadone always has customers. And, unfortunately, the clinic is always full.

Joey parked on the street and lit a cigarette as I stared out the window at the tattered sign above the door. It was so weathered, the original color had faded to a near gray. Chewing on my lip, I knew how much better I'd feel once I had a dose. I knew that the immediate threat would pass, and then I'd move on. I'd be able to call Steven and hold a conversation like a level-headed adult. I would be able to face my eldest brother without worrying about my weakness. I'd stand straighter.

"Hey." Joey tapped my shoulder, his cigarette smoke hovering in the air between us. I blinked at him, my mind almost moving in slow motion; and then, with a nod, I opened the car door and stood. Walking inside, I remember thinking about the night I'd made a promise to Billy, a promise to stay clean no matter what. I remembered being so confident, telling him I was strong. I remembered those things, but I didn't remember how it felt to be so strong. I didn't recall strength, but as I opened the door, I didn't really think at all.

The nurse didn't smile at me. She didn't even bother to speak to me more than the necessary amount. Name, address, recent drug use, etc. She only slightly frowned at me when I told her I hadn't used in over nine months. And she made a face when I told her I'd been to the clinic a month ago. The ache in my arm only worsened as I waited in the stale lobby, keeping my eyes down as to avoid being noticed by anyone else. I could easily have partied with at least one person in the room, not that I would remember. But it was best not to press my luck.

When I finally got my quick injection, I felt better before she'd sunk the needle into my arm. They call that the placebo affect. Healing through belief. But what I felt wasn't healing, it was relief. I was one more day sober. I'd made it for just a little longer.

That relief only lasted until I walked out the front door.

"YOU! SINNER! THE DEVIL HAS CLAIMED YOUR SOUL! YOU WILL BURN IN HELL FOR YOUR SINS! FEAR YOUR JUDGEMENT!" A man leapt out at me before I'd seen him, his homemade sign reading 'METHadone is a DRUG too!'. I didn't even have a shot at dodging him before he was waving the thing in my face, screaming similar warnings until my ears rang. My heart pounded as I was confronted with the contorted face of hatred, his mouth spraying me as he yelled. "GOD HATES ADDICTS."

Now, I've never been very religious. My mother took me to a church a few times when she'd been newly single, pretending that God was going to solve all of our problems. I don't know if she truly believed or not, but the lasting impression on me had been faint, and never stuck. However, in that moment on the sidewalk, I felt my stomach drop as the stranger berated me. A feeling of failure and sadness filled my chest like cement and I fought to swallow. He lashed out at me over and over with cruel words for what felt like years.

In reality, it could only have been seconds.

The next thing I knew, Joey was ripping that sign out of the man's hands and using it to beat the hell out of him. Cigarette firmly between his lips, Joey brought the flimsy cardboard down over and over until it was bent in half and waving in the air like a piece of paper.

"Fuck off ya fuckin' dickhead, I'll kill ya piece of shit motherfucker…." My brother's tidal wave of cursing was blended together as it tumbled out of the side of his mouth, smoke puffing into the air with his frantic breathing.

"Joey, enough." I muttered, blinking out of my stunned state. Touching his shoulder, I gave him a weak smile. The man on the ground continued preaching hellfire and hatred, but my brother wasn't listening anymore. He just smirked back at me.

And I knew I'd be okay.

* * *

><p>A week passed in the blink of an eye. I spent most of it working, putting all of my problems on a backburner until I was ready to face them. Because, apparently, two problems were a lot.<p>

My first problem was Steven. I loved him: fact. I wanted to see him again and go back to what we'd been. Another fact. I'd asked him to keep my beating and injuries a secret from my father. And he hadn't.

It stung me to boil it down to such simple facts. But facts don't lie. My boyfriend was loyal to my father, more so than me. This was the biggest problem on my plate and the one I didn't want to face at all. I wanted to ignore it, cut it off like a dead limb and move on. Love, however, doesn't work like that.

My second problem was the smaller of the two, and the one I confronted first. Daren.

* * *

><p>Billy lived in an apartment only a minute's walk from my own. Walking that distance felt like walking a country's length. Not because of the trek itself, but the destination. Even though my relationship with my older brother had improved vastly since my mother's death, it still wasn't a comfortable one. He was mysterious with a capital M. There was no telling what he'd do in any situation, let alone a situation as awkward as the one I was about to initiate.<p>

Billy lived on the second floor, so I used the small climb of the stairs to build up my courage, rehearse my lines as it were. And then I was standing there, in front of his door with my hand balled into a fist. Knocking firmly, I inhaled through my nose and stared at the peephole.

It was almost two in the afternoon, but Billy was one of those people that slept in until he felt like it. That day he must have felt like sleeping in until dinner, because there was no answer for a long while. And when that answer finally came, it came in the form of a muttered curse on the other side of the door.

Then open sesame, there he was. In a pair of boxers and a gray wifebeater, my brother glared at me through the chain on his door.

"What the hell do ya want?" He muttered, his eyes dark from sleep. He smelled like a drunk, reeking of booze and cigarettes in the early afternoon. I knew that afternoon hangover feeling better than anyone.

"I wanted ta talk." I spoke softly, but kept my voice firm. He respected balls, but I inferred he'd appreciate quiet as well.

"Go find someone who wants ta talk to ya then." Billy snarked back, closing the door back in my face. With a fast kick, I planted the toe of my shoe in the gap and kept it from closing completely.

"Daren found me at the Roses last week." In hindsight, mentioning Daren while still locked out in the hallway was a bad move. He could have easily smashed my toe and told me to fuck off, leaving me no choice but to limp home and try again later. But Billy didn't do anything. The door didn't open, and it didn't close. It just sat, pressed against my foot as he held it there. His face was hidden from view, so I had no clue as to what he was thinking. For all I knew, he was waiting for me to move so he could shut me out.

"Get your foot out of the fuckin' door." Deflated, I did as I was told and watched him slam the door in my face.

Then, to my surprise, I heard the chain being pulled out of the lock and dropped against the doorframe. The knob turned and the door opened a little.

That was all I got. Billy was walking way when I nudged the door open further, and I followed him inside in silence, shutting the door without a sound.

"Billy—"

"Shut up and sit." He grunted back at me, disappearing into the kitchen.

The back of Billy's living room had a small balcony, a big glass door giving him a view of a crappy little courtyard below. That morning, he had the black curtains of that glass door closed, blanketing the room in darkness. The only source of light was leaking in from under the front door. As my eyes adjusted, I moved towards the couch, feeling around for the overstuffed arm. It hit me at mid-thigh and I slid around the corner, sitting into the soft upholstery.

The smell of coffee wafted into the living room as I settled in, and I hid a smile when Billy walked in with a large mug. Cigarette in one hand, he sat opposite me in a chair, groaning as he touched down. Judging by the state of his face, he'd been up late. The skin around his eyes was darker than usual, and the corners were wrinkled and tight. He looked almost ten years older that morning, and I felt a little guilty to be bringing more his way. With a sigh, I dove headfirst.

"Daren's pregnant." Judging by his reaction, this wasn't news. He finished a drag on his cigarette before he bothered to look me in the eye, his hand steady as he set it in an ashtray.

"That all she wanted?" Billy muttered, smoke hissing out of his nose. My mouth dropped and I snorted in disbelief.

"Well yeah, that's all she had on her mind." He drank his coffee without a reply and my temper rose. "She said she's been tryin' ta talk to ya, but you won't see her." Billy stared at me for a beat, his left hand relaxed out on the armrest. I could have been reading him the phonebook.

"So you're gonna talk me into seein' her?" His voice teetered on bored and the heat in my belly expanded to my chest.

"It's the least ya can do for the mother of your baby, don't ya think?" I knew it the second I stepped over the line. Billy's brow dropped flat and his weight shifted forward so his chest hovered over his knees. He glared without saying a word and I knew I was in for it.

But the yells, or violence, never came. In fact, Billy seemed to diffuse himself as he stared at me, his eyes fixed on my face like a statue. As the seconds ticked by, he just breathed and blinked until it was so quiet I could hear myself nervously swallow.

Then he sat back and replaced his coffee with his cigarette, taking a drag.

"My baby, huh?" His eyes latched onto mine with as much anger as I'd ever seen. "I'd like to see her prove it."

"Are ya sayin' it's not yours?"

My brother let the smoke leak out of his lips before he gave a hard sniff, rubbing the back of his hand over his nose.

"What I'm sayin' is that Daren has been 'round the block a few times. Had a mystery baby a few years ago, and she's havin' a mystery baby again." He stubbed out the cigarette then took another drink of his coffee. "Word is both kids have the same daddy…and that someone off'd daddy so mommy's shopping for a new one."

I swallowed at Billy's tone as his eyes shone in the dim light.

"Jackie told me it was one of St. Claire's dealers." My heart stopped as his sneer widened. "One who liked baseball bats…."

"Fuck you." I hissed, shooting up from the couch and heading for the door. My stomach swirled like I was going to puke and my head was pounding in my skull.

"No fuck you, Harley." Billy shot after me, yanking me around by my left arm. "I know what I'm doin'. I know about shit ya don't wanna know, and I see shit ya don't wanna see. I know more than you ever will about this fuckin' city!" Grasping my arm, he threw up my left hand and forced it into my face. "I knew about that baby before he was in the ground for doin' this." Pulling my arm away, I hid the scars Tix had gifted me a few months ago. I tried to shrink away from my brother, but he closed the distance to speak face-to-face. "Daren didn't say a word ta me until she found out he was dead."

As he snarled, I wrapped my head around what he was saying. Daren was the mother of Tix's children. Daren was fucking Billy. Tix beat me up. Suddenly, Tix's voice slithered into my mind, his eerily calm tone chilling me to the core.

"_I've wanted leverage on Darley for years…" _I watched my brother, goosebumps breaking out over my skin as I glued the pieces together. _"…what better way to send a message…"_

"It was you." I whispered, my cheeks growing hot. Billy's brow twisted in confusion, but he didn't have the chance to interject. "THIS!" I shoved my scarred hand into his face, my throat burning from a sudden yell. "THIS happened because of YOU!"

Billy batted my hand away and put a finger an inch from my nose. "I'm warnin' ya—"

"I BLAMED myself all this time!" I was hysterical, unafraid behind my rage. "I thought I was the target because I was WEAK. But that's not right, is it?!" Billy's jaw locked up in silence as I jumped all over him. "IT WAS YOUR FAULT ALL THIS TIME." Dropping my arms, I gave a loud, bitter laugh to the ceiling, turning away to walk a few paces. "You were fuckin' his woman and he wanted to send you a message." Looking back at my brother, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kick him, bite him, and inflict as much pain on him as I could.

"You done?" Billy muttered. His face was cold and unmoved. In that split second I hated Billy Darley so much I let it propel me forward. And I slapped him so hard my hand rang.

My wrist was caught in his palm before I could retract it; then things just stopped. Billy held my hand limp in the air, his eyes burning into mine, neither of us moving or breathing.

When he finally did release me, I expected to be beaten in kind. It wouldn't be the first time I'd incurred the wrath of someone much stronger, and paid for it.

"That's the last time ya get away with doin' that." He spoke smoothly, evenly. "If ya do it again, you won't like what happens next."

"I'm sorry." I whispered. I didn't entirely mean it, but I was disappointed that I'd lost my composure. Whenever it felt like Billy and I had taken two steps forward, I would drag us three steps back. However, this felt more like thirty steps.

"Ya shouldn't have had ta pay for Daren bein' a whore." My brother replied, his expression softening a slight degree. "That asshole took that bat to the wrong bitch."

I winced.

Even though Daren was becoming more and more of a thorn in my side, I didn't wish that kind of pain on her. This was my brother was dancing around a half-assed apology, unwilling to ever utter the word 'sorry'. So he was directing the blame onto Daren, which, ultimately, would have to do. But it didn't correct one thing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My question made Billy look tired, more so than he already did.

"It wasn't your business."

"Oh my god." I turned and started for the door, exhausted and infuriated. I'd come to deal with one problem and had only succeeded at stirring up another.

"Only Jack knew." He shouted after me. Stopping with my hand on the knob, I listened. "Not Bones. Not Joe. Not even Bodie knows 'bout this." With a glance over my shoulder, I watched him cross his arms. "I kept it simple. Tix hurt ya, he died. The end. Done." I sighed and wiped a hand over my face. It had felt simple. But now…

"He deserved what he got." Billy seemed to see straight into my head, his voice louder and full of authority. I looked back at him and he lifted his brow as if to say 'try to tell me different'. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you ta doubt that."

"I don't." I muttered. Standing there, I felt no pity for Tix and the fate he'd been dealt. I was biased, but I didn't feel guilty. Billy hadn't been wrong: Daren was an adult, making her own choices. If Tix hadn't liked her sleeping with Billy, that should have been between them. Not me. Not Billy. "Jesus." I whispered, closing my eyes. "That bitch had me feeling bad for her."

Billy snorted and I turned around, my face laced with disbelief and anger.

"She was fuckin' crying." Billy only sneered.

"She's somethin', isn't she?"

"Jesus!" I yelled again. This time, my brother grinned. Genuinely grinned. "She asked me for help for shit's sake!"

"Now ya see why I don't give a fuck." Billy murmured, walking back to drop into his chair. "'Bout her or her baby."

Settling back onto the couch, I contemplated the pros of making 'I don't give a fuck' my new motto. The idea reminded me of my second problem: the man I had avoided for over a week.

"Billy?" I was the one to break the silence. He didn't move, opting to grunt instead. I took it as a sign to continue.

"Steven told Bones about Tix beatin' me." Sighing through his nose, my brother kept his eyes shut.

"Figures." Opening one eye, he glanced at the ashtray to retrieve the butt of his last cigarette. "St. Claire woulda told 'im eventually." I mimicked his flat brow expression.

"So why didn't you just tell him in the first place?"

He took a long inhale, intent on burning what remained of his lungs to a crisp. When he finally released, Billy sat up and hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees.

"If Bones had gotten ta Tix first, he wouldn't have just killed him." Another drag and a quick hiss. "He woulda skinned the bastard, listened to him scream until he sang his whole life story."

"And then Bones would know about you screwing Daren." Billy gave me a sarcastic wink and stood, taking his empty coffee cup to the kitchen.

"Then I woulda been fucked for you gettin' in the middle of my mess." He stopped abruptly in the doorway, realizing he'd just admitted to being at least partly responsible for my beating. Plucking his cigarette from his lips, he gestured with it in my direction. "Which wasn't my fault."

"'Course not." I muttered. Billy snorted and disappeared from view, the clunking of a coffee pot filling the silence. I had half a mind to ask for a cup when the front door opened and Joey wandered in. He stopped with the door open, one eyebrow cocked as stared at me on the sofa. I returned the stare.

"What are you doin' here?" He finally asked, his mouth full of some form of food.

"I came to see, Billy." I shot back, trying not to burst into laughter. Joey could always make me laugh but the confusion on his face was making it downright impossible to remain serious. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here." He replied, gesturing with both hands while grasping a large bag of greasy fast food. I made a face and he grinned. "Sorta."

"Better." I said with a smile. Joey laughed and flopped on the couch beside me, drawing a cheeseburger out of his bag. As he dug into the greasy thing, Billy emerged and stopped in the doorway.

"What the fuck." Billy muttered, his tired expression settling on us both. "No." Joey made stopped chewing and Billy shook his head. "Get the fuck out, both of ya."

"Bill! It's SUNDAY. Football!" Joey gestured to the TV with a desperate look, his long arms flailing wildly. Billy wasn't moved.

"Do ya have a TV Harley?" Billy glared at me, his frown so deep it threatened to split his face in half.

"Yes."

"Good for you. Get the fuck out." Pointing to the door, our elder brother forced us out into the hall without another word. When his door was properly slammed in our faces, Joey flipped Billy the bird and rolled his eyes.

"He's always a big dick when he's hungover." He grumbled, taking a bite of his burger. I smirked silently, thinking about the long conversation I'd had with my brother. I recalled how I hit him, and how he'd answered my questions. It hadn't been the smoothest of conversations, but it had accomplished something. My thirty steps back may have been another two steps forward. Anyway, I'd solved my Daren problem.

One down, one to go.

* * *

><p>AN: Lord that took longer than I'd anticipated. Sorry about that guys! Hope you enjoyed this! I'm hoping to have another ready for you soon! Love to you all and thank you for continuing to read this story!


	31. To Forgive

Family isn't always blood. Sometimes family is made out of the people you find along your way. Friends, coworkers, and lovers. We form our own families; and it took me a long time to realize this. If you have no family, you have to go out and make one. When your life is as broken as mine was, putting the pieces together can be hard. And when you're done, sometimes it's difficult to see the result clearly. It takes time, mistakes, trust, and love to put that family together. It takes hurt and healing to make it strong. You have to fight for that family. You have to earn each other.

And sometimes, that means saying you're sorry.

* * *

><p>This story starts out early in the morning. Right in the middle of my commute to work, on a relatively cold morning, my car went up in flames.<p>

I'm being slightly dramatic of course, but there was smoke. Lots of it, barreling out of the hood of my car. With a few screams and lots of panicked cursing, I barely made it into a ditch. From there, things only got better.

After a phone call to Joey, and a reluctant call to Bones' shop, I waited in a cold car for someone to dig my ass out of the muck.

I shivered in the front seat of my car when the tow truck finally came into sight. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, blowing air onto my red knuckles. I'd forgotten my gloves, like a genius, and now I was paying the price.

The truck rumbled behind me, the headlights bright in the mirrors. Worming around in my seat, I tried to see who it was that had come to pull me out. Squinting through my frosty windows, I almost couldn't see. But then a face came into view, and my heart fell.

"Shit." I could see my breath as I let the word stream out in a long hiss from my teeth. Steven's face was unshaven and sharply angular with a black beanie on his head. As he climbed out of the tow truck, he looked pretty intimidating actually, and not just because I hadn't seen him in over a two weeks now. What little tan he'd had left at the end of the summer was gone, replaced with a stony complexion and dramatically shadowed cheekbones. I watched him through the window, wishing I could disappear. My vanishing act didn't work, however, so our eyes eventually met. Gathering my courage, I pushed my door open and stood.

"Hi." My voice sounded weak against the growl of the tow truck's engine. Weak enough that I wondered if he'd heard me at all. But his lack of reply suggested he didn't care to have a conversation with me anyway. In fact, Steven went on like I wasn't there. Without making the mistake of looking up at me again, he kept busy hooking a chain to the front of my car. His back bobbed as he moved around, getting onto his knees at one point to duck underneath the bumper. I didn't get any closer, feeling stupid enough as it was. So with my hands in my pockets, I watched him in silence.

The wind was getting a little more insistent, the cold biting at my cheeks and nose until my eyes started to water. Waiting beside the driver's side of the car, I wondered if Steven would even notice if I turned into a human popsicle. Probably not.

As he worked, I counted the days since I'd seen him. Sixteen days. The number put an ache in my stomach. Seeing him now, even though he was currently hidden, I realized I'd missed him. A lot more than I'd wanted to admit. It hurt me to think that he didn't feel the ache I did. Maybe the time had passed quickly for him. Maybe he hadn't felt so alone in his bed at night.

"Tow's unlocked." His voice cut through the noise in a deep grumble then vanished just as quickly. I blinked through my watery vision to see, but he'd ducked away again. The wind blew harder and my eyes blurred. It was only the cold, I thought to myself. I wasn't wounded by his words. Yet I did as he'd hinted: I went away.

Sitting in the cabin of the rumbly old truck left me alone with my thoughts. There wasn't anything to see except the street. But if I leant forward enough I could see Steven in the side view mirror. He kept his eyes down or his back to me the entire time I watched. I thought through a million things to say to him. I wasn't sure if I should be sorry or if I should still be angry. Would it be weak to completely forgive him in hopes of going back to the way things had been? Would it be stupid to let him get away with what he'd done?

Steven's door opened with a gust of cold air and he jumped quickly into the seat. He was breathing hard, his body filling the car with a chill as he sniffled. The silence was downright awful. Awkward and irritating. The two of us had gone through so much already; something like this felt childish.

"I'm sorry." I spit the words out in what felt like a single syllable. Steven shifted the car into drive, glancing into the rearview mirror.

"Okay." He murmured, easing off from the side of the road, his eyes never leaving the mirror. I kept waiting for something else, anything else, but he offered nothing.

"I was upset and vulnerable. The last place I should have gone was a bar—"

"Okay." Steven cut me off, his volume startling me. His eyes finally met mine for the briefest of moments. There wasn't forgiveness on his face, but disinterested dismissal. To say the expression flustered me is putting it lightly. The man sitting next to me felt like a complete stranger. He wasn't the same one who'd cupped my face and coaxed me from fear or sadness. He wasn't the man who'd whispered my name while we made love. Nope. That wasn't the man beside me.

"Please talk to me." I spoke softly in order to keep from tumbling into tears. The emotion sat in the back of my throat, threatening to make me crumble from the inside out. He didn't say anything for a long beat, his concentration behind us as my car was pulled from the ditch. But as soon as he'd righted us on the road, he stared out the front windshield, his jaw flexing in thought. I waited patiently with my hands clutched in my lap.

"Don't have anything ta say." He finally ground out. My chest pinched and I fought off the ugly crying that built there.

"I'm so—"

"It's fine." He barked out, his brow cranked low over his eyes. Steven sighed hard and clamped his lips together with contained irritation.

"No, it's not." I wanted to yell, but my voice wobbled with the slightest push. Word vomit rose up as we fell into silence again. He ignored me as he stared out the windshield, wind whistling outside. So I let it go.

"I've missed you like a piece of me had been torn off. Part of me wanted to pretend like nothing had happened just so I could hold you and feel whole again, but another needed to know that I can trust you..."

"Trust me?" He burst through like a dam had been broken. "That shit goes both ways, Harley. The second somethin' doesn't go your way, you run ta Rick –of all people– and drink yourself silly. And when ya can't solve that with a few tears, you take off." His voice faded, the cabin of the truck falling into silence.

"Run ta Rick?" I wanted to slap him for even saying the words.

"Don't pretend." He growled from deep in his throat, and I knew I'd touched a place in him much darker than I'd ever seen.

"Steven." I reached out and brushed his forearm gently, my marred fingers softly grasping his jacket. He only let my hand linger for a moment before he dropped his arm and moved it from my reach.

"I know I hurt you." I whispered, watching his eyes as he glared ahead. "I used a dumb kiss to punish you for betraying me. And I'm sorry."

"Betraying you." He grumbled. "Bullshit."

"I can live with you being more loyal to my father than to me—"

"Your father is the most powerful man in Southie!" Steven slammed on the brakes, yanking the steering wheel so the truck slid to a stop on the side of the road. Once he threw the transmission into park, he turned his body to confront me in the passenger's seat. "I told him about Tix to protect you! I told him because I knew he would have found out. Shit, Tix's death is all Charlie's guys are talkin' about."

I swallowed and played with my fingernails, trying my best to keep from crying. Steven sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Killin' one of your own, it's a big deal, Harley. In Charlestown…" He rubbed his face, his stubble whispering against his rough palm. "Bones does too much business with St. Claire. I needed to tell him." He looked tired as he spoke and I knew the feeling. I wanted to forget all about Tix, Billy, Daren, everything.

"I know you did. Deep down, I knew that the moment Rick told me—"

"That fuckin' dick." Steven sneered, both of his hands strangling the steering wheel. "He was probably thrilled ta be the first ta tell you…"

"And he took as much advantage as possible." I held my ground with a steady stare as Steven ground his teeth. "I don't a feel a thing for him, Steven." His eyes caught mine for a moment, then fell away when he recognized the truth.

"I owe that fucker a fat lip." He growled. His hands loosened and settled in his lap, the engine still idling as we sat on the side of the road. "Shoulda gone straight there that night, showed him that you're…" Steven went quiet, as if he'd said more than he ever meant to. But I wanted him to finish the sentence, needed him to.

"Tell me." I whispered, praying he'd forgive me. Praying he'd say the words. "Please."

His eyes found mine and the fire there took my breath away. I was in love with this man, and he could destroy me here and now, with a single word. Or he could ignite the very air.

What he did next, however, was neither.

One moment, he was staring at me from the driver's seat of the truck, his mouth open as breath rushed between his lips. Then the next, his door was ripped open and he jumped out of the truck. Blinking in confusion, I watched him circle the truck in only a handful of strides before he stood outside my door. It opened with a rush of cold air and a harsh screech.

Steven stood there panting in the frosty weather for several silent seconds, his hands braced on either side of my door, his forehead furrowed in deliberation. I unbuckled my seatbelt with shaking hands. When I was clear of it, he grabbed me.

Our mouths met before I was out of the truck, his arms hoisting me from the seat as I clung to his shoulders. He was warm and tasted like coffee, my Steven. I kissed him like the desperate teenager I was and he dug a hand into my hair, grabbing but not pulling. The cold made fresh tears sting on my cheeks as they fell, happiness and relief mingling in my ribs.

"You're mine." Steven growled between kisses. I could only manage to nod, tiny sobs robbing me of my voice completely. My back flattened against the tow truck and Steven planted a hand on the freezing metal to press us flush together. My whimpered tears and his soft groans: our love song. Desperate and broken, our relationship would never be easy or pretty. We were proud, stubborn and yet weak.

"I've thought about this for days." He murmured into my ear. "Coming to you and wrapping my arms around you."

"I'm so sorry." I touched my forehead to his temple, breathing him in. His scent was the same, exactly as I'd remembered. "I was so stupid, staying away." Taking my jaw in his hand, Steven brought my face to his.

"Don't do it again. Got me?" He brushed a few tears away from my cheek as he whispered. I nodded despite the steady stream of tears that ran down my face. "I can't do this again."

"I won't." I replied. "I promise." I repeated my promise until his mouth swallowed up my words. And, even in the cold wind, I was warm.


	32. Harder

Things were calm after Steven came back. For a little while, nothing went wrong. No one got angry and threatened anyone's life. No one did much of anything out of the ordinary.

And before I knew it, it was my birthday.

The year that had passed had been one of fear, turbulence, and discovery. I'd grown into someone very different from the Harley Todd my mother had raised. I was brave when I needed to be. I knew what love was, and how to put someone before myself. I knew how to work through difficulty instead of running from it. I was still learning, mind you, but I'd come a long way.

* * *

><p>I spent the morning lying around being lazy, thinking I wasn't working or doing anything besides eating my way through my pantry for my birthday.<p>

That, however, changed. Drastically.

As always, Billy didn't knock. Actually, he practically ripped my door off the goddamn hinges before he strolled inside like he forgot I lived there.

Blowing smoke through his lips, he gestured with a smirk of irritation at my sweatpants and t-shirt.

"Jesus, Todd. Let's go." He sucked down a hard drag and charged into my kitchen. Cracking open a can, my brother helped himself to whatever was in my fridge while I blinked dumbly as I followed him.

"Go?" I wiped a hand over my face, praying I didn't look like I'd eaten my weight in Cheetos that morning. Billy swallowed a gulp of beer and sighed, leaning on the counter.

"Didn't Joe call ya?" I snorted loudly.

"Joey? Do what he's supposed to?" Billy returned the sarcastic snort and grinned.

"Get dressed, smartass. Bodie's on his way." He waved for me to leave, dismissing me in an all-too-familiar gesture. But I did as I was told, running for my room to throw on black leggings and a green top. I was tripping on my own feet when Bodie's voice joined Billy's in my living room. Slipping on my regular boots and slapping on just enough makeup, I reappeared to a room which was startlingly full of men. Bodie, Joey, Heco, Tommy, Baggy, and Billy were all drinking my beer, stopping only when I stumbled into view.

"Booooo!" Joey was the first to yell, his hair spiked with something bright red. "Go back!" There was a laugh from the kitchen and the men all chuckled quietly as I turned red.

"Shut up Joey, you asshole." I muttered. Another laugh came from the kitchen, and this time I realized it wasn't one of the guys.

"Yeah, Joe. Your ugly mug can't say shit." From behind Billy, Jackie appeared, her freshly opened beer foaming out onto her hand as she quietly swore. While she wiped the mess on Joey's jacket, I got a look at her and embarrassment made me blushed harder. She was wearing fuck-me heels and dark grey jeans that hugged her every curve. Her top was black with slits across the stomach to show off her figure, leather accents shining on the shoulders. But that wasn't the best part of her outfit. Her eyes were surrounded by thick, black eyeshadow, turning her green eyes into lightning with her long blonde hair was piled up high on her head in a ponytail. Jackie was drop dead stunning, and I wanted to run back into my closet and hide.

She took a slurp of her drink and handed it to Heco, who took it and held it in front of him before it sloshed out onto his shirt.

"Come on, birthday girl, let's get ya fixed up." Parting the crowd, she followed me back into my room. We both dug through my closet, going through my makeup drawer and straightening my hair until I thought it had caught fire. Less than five minutes later she finally nodded and pushed me towards the living room.

"FINALLY!" This time it was Bodie who cheered, his second beer thrust in my direction as I teetered on sky-high boots. My makeup was dark and dramatic, poking out my cheekbones like I was make of marble instead of skin. Jackie's straightening had lengthened my hair to my collarbone, accenting its dark and messy asymmetry. It wasn't polished, but I couldn't help but feel good when all the guys took their time looking me over. Even Billy's stony expression softened as he stared. But it was Joey that gave a startling hoot.

"Fuck yessssssssss!" My ridiculous brother stumbled his way into the hallway and grabbed me around the waist, hoisting me into the air. Everyone laughed, Jackie slapped my ass, and we all piled out of my apartment.

We drove in three different cars, Jackie driving me in the third as we tore into downtown Boston. It was like a surreal dream, laughing and carrying on as part of the group. Joey was at my side like always, but it was so much more than that. I wasn't just tagging along on some night out. It struck me head-on as we pulled up to a club: we were out for me.

I blinked back a little watering in my eyes and Jackie winked at me in the rearview mirror.

"Ready ta rule the world, baby?"

"Hell ya." I murmured. Joey hollered and Heco cheered from the passenger's seat.

* * *

><p><strong>Harder.<strong>

That's what the club was called. As we all walked from the parking lot to the street, I realized why I was wearing boots with a lethal heel. Why Jackie was wearing so much makeup it made her look like another person. There was a line of people in leather and chains, some with whips and such. My palms were sweating almost instantly.

I swallowed as the boys all headed towards the door with loud laughs and heavy stomps. Jackie clicked alongside me, her hair swaying back and forth with each stride.

"Jackie, is this a…" A guy in a fishnet shirt gave me a wink, both of his nipples pierced beneath the material. "…BDSM place?"

Her laugh turned a few heads. Reaching over to wrap an arm around me, she chuckled into my ear.

"Only if ya want it ta be." Wagging her eyebrows she bit her bottom lip. "The point is leather, rock & roll, maybe a little pain…" She squeezed me closer. "But it's mostly about sex I guess." I gave a small nervous smile and she snorted. "Oh come on, it's just a bar."

"I didn't figure my brother for the kink bar type." I muttered, watching as Billy charged right past the bouncer. Jackie shrugged.

"Eh, he's not. But he gets tons of action when he does come here." Rolling my eyes, I could only nod. There were beautiful girls in corsets in the line down the block, dozens of them. There was no competition with the regular girls at the Four Roses. As we ducked by the line and past the bouncer, the light from the street vanished and I blinked to try and see.

The place was nearly pitch black for a moment, and then the low spot lights started to fill in my vision. It was as dark as you could get without everyone stumbling around blind. And it was a good thing too. There were people everywhere, rubbing together in mindless groups. Joey was already dancing with a girl, her pale hands grasping at his thighs as he moved behind her.

"Jesus." I whispered. Jackie laughed.

"Want a drink ta wash down that god talk?" She gestured towards a table. "Billy's over there. I'll go order us something."

I didn't get a chance to reply before she was gone, weaving her way through the masses. As she strode away, I realized the back of her shirt was shredded too, like claws had ripped straight through her. I bit my lip and glanced down at my simple green top. I was totally in over my head. Before any brave guys singled me out, I pushed my way to my brother's table. He sat there with a cigarette in his lips like he was the king, his arms stretched wide across the back of the crescent booth.

"It's a little crowded, huh?" I spoke up awkwardly as I approached and Billy snorted, a cloud of smoke leaking from his lips.

"Says the girl who used ta party in the Southie warehouse district." I blushed as I remembered one such party; the night Deb died, the night Billy had threatened my life for trying to buy from Heco. Billy saw my face and seemed to follow my thoughts, his expression softening. "Any dudes get grabby, feel free ta hit 'em." He grinned. "Every time we're here Jack gets rough with some asshole." I smirked at the mental picture of Jackie punching one of the nipple-pierced guys in the line outside. Billy snorted and shook his head. "Dunno why she bothers though. Most of 'em like it."

"I'm surprised they let her back in." I replied. Billy broke into one of his devilish grins.

"All the bouncers want ta fuck her."

"Well…" I laughed and look across the club at Jackie as she leaned over the bar and smiled coyly at the bartender. "…I can't say I don't know why."

"She's a hot piece of ass, that's why." Heco swooped in from nowhere, a beer in each hand as he set one down in front of Billy. Bodie followed, a redhead draped on his arm while Tommy led two brunettes towards the booth.

"Ladies, this is Billy." He introduced them like a pro, the girls giggling as my brother coolly said nothing, exhaling smoke from his lips with a nod. "Bill, meet Nina and Melanie."

"I'm gonna go find Jackie." I muttered as Billy gestured for one of the girls to sit beside him, the boys instantly forgetting my existence. But just as I tried to inch away and escape, she appeared with a black drink in her hand, holding it in my face.

"I have no fuckin' clue what's in these things, but they're awesome." She shouted over the music, her face already flushed from a few drinks. I could only imagine how many shots she'd worked out of that bartender for free.

"Thanks." I took it from her and gave it a sniff. It smelled like cough syrup and tar.

"I'd put a candle in it, but…" Jackie snorted and downed the drink in her hand, making a face as she plopped the glass on the table. "Ugh. Happy Birthday, bitch."

I raised the drink and said a silent prayer, flinching as the stuff rolled down my throat.

* * *

><p>Two hours later and too many black drinks down, I was dancing with Jackie to a song that had no beat. At least, not one I could distinguish. Then again, I was blitzed out of my mind. Every once in a while I felt my old habits slip back, my arm itching for a long forgotten burn, but then I'd just look back at the booth. This wasn't my old life. I had made myself a new one.<p>

Jackie leaned into my ear from behind me, her hands on my hips.

"I think Joey wants ta buy you a drink." I laughed, already too drunk. But I nodded and broke away from the dancing, giggling my way over to the bar where my brother stood. His arm pulled me in close and the smell of tequila hit me like a wave.

"Little sister." He slurred, his eyes rolling around in his head as he tried to speak. I laughed and held him up, leaning into the bartender.

"Cut him off." I ordered with a grin, pointing at Joey's face. The guy smiled and saluted me with a wink. Together, Joey and I went back to the booth where Heco remained with the two brunettes, his arms atop their shoulders.

"Joe, you fuckin' lightweight." He shouted when we approached, the girls giggling. "Your sister is holdin' ya up and she's the birthday girl."

"Oh my gosh! It's your birthday!" One of the brunettes cheered, clapping her hands together like a seal.

"We should do birthday shots!" The second added, tapping the table with her palm. "How old are you?"

I grinned awkwardly and sat with Joey in the booth. My brother snorted and poked my cheek.

"Todd's only nineteen." He giggled, turning his finger on Heco as he hiccupped. "And fuck you. I started drinking at four." Rolling my eyes, I tuned out the girls chirping for more shots, and curled up under Joey's arm, content to just listen to my brother drunkenly argue with Heco about how much he'd had to drink all day.

After a while, Heco and the girls cleared out for the dance floor and it was just Joey and I in the booth. He was close to falling asleep on me when I noticed Billy out on the dance floor, his jaw flexing as he moved against a girl. It took me a few more seconds to see it, but Jackie's face eventually appeared and I smiled as I watched her brush her fingers up Billy's neck, holding his head close to her temple.

"He likes her, doesn't he?" I spoke out loud, expecting no reply from my wasted companion. But Joey surprised me, rousing just enough to squint out into the club.

"Jack?"

"Yeah." She was holding one of his hands against her hip, their bodies moving together seamlessly.

"Probably." Joey sighed, rubbing his nose with a hand. "She's been around since forever and she doesn't drive him crazy." I laughed and patted Joey's face, making him flinch and bat me away.

"That's pretty significant for our older brother, wouldn't ya say?" Joey and I continued to observe as Jackie kept her head turned into Billy's, their eyes never meeting but their faces never turning away.

"Guess so." Joey shrugged again. "But he'll never settle." I chuckled.

"Why?"

"Cuz he doesn't want kids. Doesn't want a wife." My brother sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head on top of mine. "That's why he needs us, Todd." Joey muttered, moments from passing out. "We're the only family he'll ever have."

* * *

><p>AN: I've returned! Thank you for reading! If you could be so kind and let me know what you thought, I'd very much appreciate it. :) Love to you all.


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